Not Titled
by AngelOfDeath10
Summary: *complete* Herm/Drac so you are warned, R for inexplicit sex, bored Draco kidnaps Herm summer before last year at Hog. for something to do, meh, now edited somewhat... be warned it isn't very fluffy
1. Chapter 1

Ok, I realize that pairing Hermione and Draco is really wrong. It's one of those "only fanfics" sort of impulses that I have. In the actual books I will kick and scream with horror if Hermione and Ron do not end up together. But Herm/Ron fics are not interesting to me, because evil is much more exciting, even if I want good to win. So here's a quick little adventure I did, while bored, in my spare time.  
  
Standard non-ownership disclaimers here for I own jack all and am as poor as sin.  
  
Part 1: The Actors He swept through the house with anger unmatched to any he'd felt before. Break from school was long and boring and the fact that he had been left at home to his own devices only reinforced the feeling of uselessness that permeated his existence in the house he'd spent his life in. Elegant, rich, it all reeked of aristocracy and privilege. Naturally it would, Malfoys had lived here for centuries, and they were proud of every inch of the crumbling castle. Everything was dark, cold, uninviting. and Draco was thoroughly tired of doing nothing but walking around all day. The house only held a very few options, and he wasn't in the mood to spend his whole vacation in the library. The grounds were well enough, lush and green, and well they should be for all the money and magic that went into their care. More for show than for enjoyment, as many of the Malfoys possessions were. Sure, once in a while he would practice spells on animals for kicks, turning them into other animals or objects, but that had limited appeal. What he needed was a person. He wasn't sure for what, but he knew he needed some human company. Most of the servants had gone with Lucius and Narcissa to Germany for the summer, and the ones that were let were careful to stay out of sight from the temperamental 17-year-old boy lest they become the butt of his vicious ennui.  
  
"This is no good," he said out loud, (a common habit born of being left alone too often) "I must speak to someone, anyone." the air around him crackled with bitterness, then mellowed ".or at least watch someone talking to someone else." The idea flowed into his head and filled him with a sweet anticipation. He moved quickly and surely down long hallways with heavy dark colored drapes over all the windows until he reached a far back and inconspicuous corner that looked like any other corner of the castle and walked straight into the wall. Coming out the other side of the secret opening he moved down the stairs at a steady pace, his feet moving confidently over the dark steps in the faint light. At the bottom of the stairwell was a small room. Comfortable, albeit dark and unfriendly, he looked at the plush cushions set in front of the large clear orb that dominated the center of the room. This was his mother's domain, for as a witch her scrying powers were unmatched by almost anyone in her generation. She had been a spy for Voldemort many years ago, and when he left she continued to practice what she did out of the need to know what was going on outside the castle that she did not often leave.  
  
When she had first showed him this room a few years ago, he had been skeptical. Scrying was an imperfect art and often you didn't see what you wanted or nothing at all. Narcissa had the patience to try again and again with enough concentration to get fairly consistent results, and she taught her son as well as possible so that he too could have a good grasp of this complex art. Combined with Lucius' combat spells lessons, and various other subjects he was tutored in over the summers in the past Draco was becoming quite proficient in the dark arts. It was well he should, if he were going to continue the Malfoy legacy. Next year was going to be his last at Hogwart's and if he did not have a good grasp of his future now, then he never would.  
  
But his attention, then wandering, snapped back to the orb with delight and interest. Around the room were various objects that he could pick up and use as a focus. The knife on the shelf caught his interest, as knives often did, and he thought about the chef downstairs even now making his food. The image sharpened fairly quickly due to Draco's long familiarity with the surroundings and the person. A boring image really, as the chef was in the midst of preparing some roasted meat and happened to be seasoning it at that moment. There was a brief pause in activity as the chef pulled a bottle of brandy from beneath the counter and drank about a fifth of the bottle before returning to his work as if nothing had happened. Realizing that this was where most of the brandy was probably going, Draco was amused by this interesting indiscretion. It didn't matter to him much, his father had plenty of money to fuel the cook's drinking habit, and as long as his food got prepared then at least he was doing his job. At the same time Draco coolly started to think up punishments and in doing so lost his concentration and the scry all at once. That was a brilliantly uninteresting foray, but with a smirk he thought of a far more diverting one.  
  
Grabbing some glasses off the shelf, he thought as intensely as he could about Harry Potter. Knowing what Harry was doing would be eminently valuable and at the very least would ease some of his boredom. Swirling gray and green inside the orb formed a mad tempest for a minute or two and then began to settle and firm. Outlines of smoke took on three dimensions and then all at once snapped into focus and Draco could see Harry Potter smiling. A sneer crept up to his lips, but he quickly stifled it as the emotions were beginning to make the scry cloudy again. Potter came into clear view again, and as the picture widened Draco could see Ron and him on broomsticks tossing a quaffle back and forth for fun. They were laughing and the sun was bright in the trees around them. Then Ron, with a bright smirk said something to something below him and dived off his broom. As there was never sound, and Draco couldn't read lips since it would break his concentration the actions would have to speak for themselves. Now following Ron, he saw him land in the middle of a large, murky looking lake. The large splash that followed made Harry laugh and he soon followed suit right behind Ron.  
  
They both laughed and pointed in a direction. Panning out more, Draco saw the sputtering, wet form of a fully clothed, formerly dry Hermione. She began shouting something and jumped and stomped her foot just a little. Obviously they had caught her by surprise, and even thought she did not look particularly angry, she also did not seem pleased at the new state of things. Ron and Harry started to splash one another, but Draco no longer had any interest in their banal activities because Hermione was beginning to strip off her sodden clothing on piece at a time. Her pants came off first and he thought he was seeing a tantalizing peek at her panties when with a jolt of disappointment he saw her take off her top to reveal a bathing suit. They had obviously planned on going swimming from the start. While Hermione brushed out her hair and wound it into a bun, Draco took time to admire her form. She must have filled out a few years earlier, because no one could have gone from frizzy haired nothing to. that in but a year. Her form fuzzed at the edges as he was losing control of the scry, and when she almost spilled out of the top of her suit before catching it (after giving a quick look around to make sure no one saw) she fuzzed out completely. Draco tried to recapture her image, but failed. There was no way he could keep his head straight at the moment. He had suddenly formed some plans to consider.  
  
Walking up the stairs he felt vaguely unsettled. Merely looking at Granger had made his palms itch just a little to touch that fair skin. Hell, he wanted to do more than just touch it. His aroused state was uncomfortable, but her refused to relieve himself as he prided his own ability to control himself. This attraction to Granger would have to be dealt with, and he knew what needed to happen no matter the consequences. If he needed her, then he would take her, and bring her here. At least he wouldn't be bored anymore.  
  
*  
  
Hermione's summer was off to a fabulous start. Ron and Harry were marvelous fun and they spent all their time together. Soon Ron would be traveling with Hagrid to see his brother and the dragons. Hagrid, who desperately wanted to work with dragons again, had talked Ron into the jaunt and with Ron in his last year this would be an ideal time to use Ron visiting his brother before Ron was too busy with other things. The trip would take Ron away for almost the entire summer. Harry and Hermione were not so excited to go to central Europe because of all the political problems, even if it was in the woods, and so didn't press the issue when Hagrid said it would be too dangerous for the two of them to go as well. Ron had already promised to write every day, and Harry and Hermione knew very well that he probably would if to nothing but complain about the prolonged camping trip.  
  
Harry and she were planning to go all through London to clubs and to hear all sorts of music as she and he had not spent much time in the Muggle world and wanted to have some of the normal teenage experiences that other kids their age did. Movies, dancing, and all sorts of fun were in order. Ron was very irritated that he had to miss all the fun, but admitted he was still excited to see his brother and to learn a little more about dragons and maybe he'd go around in other countries and see the Muggle sights there. Vaguely unsure how to tell him about the general uneasiness in that part of the world, they figured that Hagrid would keep him safe enough and told him that that sounded like a great idea. But all that was for the future, and there was no reason to linger on thoughts of their impending separation. For a moment there was a feathery sensation in the back of her mind, it faded a little and she dismissed it as a bug flew in front of her. Tying up her hair, she thought she felt something again, only stronger. Finishing tying up her bun, and after readjusting her suit I guess I need to go buy a bigger one!, Hermione jumped into the water, ignoring her uneasy feeling as a result of dwelling on the separation from Ron that was impending in a couple days.  
  
Immediately, she was attacked by her two overzealous friends and totally soaked by a large wave of shrieking happy friends. The water fight that ensued was juvenile, ridiculous, and totally unworthy of their mature teenage mentality, but none of them cared at that moment except that it was a hot day and they were playing in the water. Soon, tired and happy they began to lazily swim across the small lake. Harry got out to sun himself on the shore while Ron tried to get some of the gritty dirt out of his hair that Harry had rubbed in there during a particularly underhanded move in the water fight. Hermione made lazy circles in the water, lying on her back and feeling the sun warm her stomach. It was a good day, a great day, one of the best she'd ever had. There was no way that that feeling could have been broken, and she could hold on to this brief moment of youthful carelessness.  
  
A cold hand grabbed her leg from beneath the water, and Hermione screamed as loud and as hard as she could immediately losing her buoyancy and landing right on the sneaky form of Ron who was the culprit who had just given her a fright.  
  
"Ron! That was a horrid thing to do!" She sputtered and coughed out a little water as Harry laughed himself into hiccups on the shore.  
  
"Oh come on, Mione, it's not like you got hurt or anything." His smile became sly. "Besides, you never know when the great Loch Ness Ron will hit."  
  
"I still think you're a horrible, immature, cruel." she dissolved into laughter as Ron began to tickle her. She sank down into the water again, as she couldn't keep treading water in that state. Sputtering, she resurfaced and splashed him as she jetted away to the shore in a false huff. Swimming quickly behind her, Ron pounced a couple more times before giving up on Hermione's superior swimming ability as she stayed well ahead of him. Ron and Hermione laid down on the shore next to Harry. Tired, a little hungry, and drying in the sun, they looked at the trees and the bugs that darted over the water.  
  
"So what happens next year?" Harry said quietly.  
  
"We get a year older, we graduate." Said Ron.  
  
"We figure out what we want to do in the world and get jobs, I guess." Hermione said.  
  
"I haven't really thought out what I want to do that well." Ron started "There are so many options, and the opportunities are spread out wide before all of us. Especially you two, although I must say I've already had an offer or two to take up some Ministry positions next year. Although entering the Ministry was not my first thought."  
  
"I always saw myself teaching, I suppose. I mean, I would love to go on learning until I can't cram a single other thing in my brain, but that's not too practical. Then there is always the option of research. Researching ancient forms of magic would be a wonderful way to spend some years and gain some experience.. Maybe travel some too." Hermione's voice took on a wistful far away quality. She had spent a lot of time thinking about her future, it's part of what had given her such drive in her schoolwork.  
  
"So Harry, what about you? Auror?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "You could write a book and make gads of money. I could just see it, Hell on a Dollar a Day by H. Potter, and you could make even more money with book signings with lots of young women screaming and fainting in front of you." Hermione was softly chuckling and Harry was giving his friend a lop sided smile that bode playful trouble if he continued. Standing up he began to imitate the supposed fainting women. "Oh Mr. Potter! Eeeeee! Oh my heart." and down he crumpled in a neat heap at Harry's feet.  
  
"Beautiful performance, you should take up acting Ron. I know several soap operas who are dying for your kind of talent." Harry shoved Ron hard and he rolled down the embankment into the water with a soft plop. Flipping over, he began to swim a bit again, enjoying the cool of the water on his warm skin.  
  
"But really Harry, what are you going to do?" Hermione's voice was soft and inquisitive.  
  
"I'm not sure, really." He brought his knees up under his chin. "I suppose the expected thing is to be an Auror, or something terribly dangerous and heroic. You know I've never been one for decisive decisions far in advance. When it comes down to it, I'll know what to do. I just hope I don't hesitate."  
  
"Of course you won't Harry," Hermione said forcefully. "We're young yet anyway, and have at least a whole year in front of us with no worries."  
  
"I hope you're rig.. YOU GIT!" Harry jumped up and made a flying leap at Ron who had just sprayed them with cold water, shocking them both into expressions that gave him fits of hysterics. Apparently, playfulness ran in more Weasleys than just the twins. There was to be no more talk of futures that day when there was so much tangible, delirious present.  
  
*  
  
Books were spread all throughout the library. Some of them open, face down, spine cracked, pages slightly ripped, but nothing that a little bit of magic couldn't fix. The maids would have a tough time of it this evening cleaning up, as there were only two of them for the whole house and this alone would take a couple hours. But then, Draco didn't really care what sort of messes other people had to clean up for him. Cursing loudly and vehemently he tossed another book to the floor from the ladder he stood on. There had to be something useful up there. He knew that they had the damn book, unless someone stole it at some point in recent years. But that couldn't be, as the library had enough magic protecting its precious, and sometimes illegal, contents that it hadn't been pilfered in several decades. At least not stolen from successfully.  
  
Then he found it. A low hiss of pleasure inadvertently escaped through his front teeth. Ah yes, Memory Charms and their Uses. Perfect. Excellent. Superb. He gave a low laugh.  
  
Better notify the maids to make up one of the more remote guest bedrooms, one of the. secure ones. He was expecting company, even if they didn't know they were coming.  
  
*  
  
Hermione and Harry waved goodbye to Ron as he returned home by way of flu powder. They had had a small party at Hermione's house for which her mother had graciously made food and drink for several Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs as well as for Hagrid so that Ron could be sent off in style for the summer. Everyone else had cleared out long before, with Hagrid and Ron being the last to leave. The room was adrift in broken streamers, brightly colored and listless now that their use was through. There would be quite a lot of cleaning up to do, even though the party had not been rowdy.  
  
"You want any of this food, Harry?" Hermione's mother asked "Certainly we don't need much of the leftovers and I'd hate to think of what those nasty relat. you know it isn't my place to say anything, pardon me dear." She gave Harry a pat on the head and gathered up some green streamers.  
  
"You're really very lucky Hermione," Harry started "I wish I had a loving family to go home to."  
  
"Black will get on the right side of the law eventually, as soon as the bureaucrats get it all straight that he's not dangerous. Otherwise, you only have to stick it out for one more year." Giving a crinkly smile she gave him a hug. "Now help me get this food put away before the sauces turn in this heat."  
  
"It's terribly hot isn't it?" Harry, and indeed everyone cleaning, was sweating, and the room was still oppressive from when everyone was around and talking and laughing. "But it was nice to see everyone for a little while. It's a shame so many of them are leaving for the summer holiday as well."  
  
"Well, most people's families want to spend the summer with them before they run away after next year. It's understandable that most people won't be too available." Hermione's scowl at the stain on the carpet made her somewhat comic. "Certainly we'll have a hard time of it trying to find people to go clubbing with us."  
  
"What a dreadful thing to call it," Harry remarked. "A bit like we are back in the Stone Age trying to find dinner or something. Or it is as if we are part of some gladiatorial game."  
  
"The point is that we need to go out and start acting more like typical teenagers and get a taste of what it is like before we enter the real world. I for one will be happy to experience a little careless fun, so we're going out tomorrow right?" Harry nodded. "But do you know where we're going to go?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Well, I've got the car from my parents but I need to be home by one on pain of death or suspension of insurance." Hermione scrubbed at a solidified glop of something on the wood surface of the table with a sponge. "Or death. I don't really know which is worse. I suppose we could just drive into the city and take our chances."  
  
Harry looked vaguely nervous. "I've been thinking that, well, we don't exactly look like most of the other kids our age." He paused a moment as the thought formed more completely. "We don't follow the same trends, and are essentially out of it. I mean, we aren't even in on most of the trends of the wizard world unless we are at school. I don't know about you, but being essentially locked in the house all summer has not been conductive to being 'in style'. What do you think that other people will make of us?"  
  
Hermione stopped scrubbing the table a moment. "I see your point." She paused a few moments more. "I suppose all there is for it is to go shopping and find out what people our age wear so that we can at least look normal even if we don't know what sort of slang or trends are popular at the moment. Do you have a little money?" Harry nodded, as naturally he had plenty for whatever he needed as long as it was not excessive. "I've got a bit saved as well, and I think that we can get at least a couple outfits worth to make us look, um, cool."  
  
Harry and Hermione finished helping clean and Harry took off for home with flu powder, promising that they'd go shopping tomorrow afternoon in preparation for tomorrow night. Although Hermione smiled confidently and appeared to have all the answers, she herself worried some about how she and Harry would relate to other people their age. There was plenty that could go wrong, and she didn't want to be thought weird and hence unapproachable on their first try at being in the normal teenage scene. One especially worrying thing was what they would look like. Their inexperience would probably be as obvious as if they had painted "innocents" on their clothing even if they were very competent in magic. Magic didn't give you good people skills. Magic didn't make you naturally likable. Bah. It was just another skill, and she was good at picking up on things quickly.  
  
Looking down at her plain cotton skirt, plaid, knee-length, and her white cotton shirt she began to wonder what it would be like to be in daring clothing. Something that showed some thigh, and possibly. off the shoulder a little on the shirt. Her wardrobe was practical, and useful. It contained everything she needed to get around a busy school and be perfectly well dressed and comfortable. There were robes over everyone anyway so it ultimately didn't matter what you wore. Might as well be comfortable. In her experience, beauty was not only pain but extreme discomfort, (which can be much worse than pain). Even as she was not ugly, she made no pretense at great beauty. It just didn't mean that much to her. But now it would have to. She needed something to go out in, and she didn't exactly know where to get clothes like that. Certainly not department stores, as they would only possess normal clothes like the kind that were her normal sensible ones. It would be time consuming, but she was sure that eventually someone would direct her and Harry to a place where they could get something decent to look like normal youth. She heaved a soulful sigh as she arranged couch cushions.  
  
Tomorrow would be busy, and it was too late to do anything more than look in a phone book for interesting sounding shops as nothing was open at thing late in the evening. Might as well go read a bit more from nest year's text books as it was a couple hours until midnight and she wouldn't be able to get to sleep fast in this heat until it got to be a bit later.  
  
*  
  
It was so complicated. The way the spell worked he would need to expend an enormous amount of energy doing what he needed to do, every day he would have to renew it as well otherwise it would weaken and fade out all together. But he only needed to do it on two people if he did it well, and maintaining it once cast would be only a minimal energy drain. He could see why so few people used it as it had to have someone fairly devoted to keeping it going and it was much more worthwhile to devote that energy to something else more potent and permanent. But for his purposes it was ideal. The rest of the problems could be dealt with as they popped up. The best way to deal with it was make the whole thing as air tight as possible. It only needed to be effective before 5 weeks were up, then his parents would get back from their vacation and he would have more training. Maintaining it that long would make him weak, and he would surely be punished for doing badly if he didn't stop at least a little bit early. No rest for the wicked. His mother was fond of saying that with a queer little smile playing on her thin lips. Draco licked his own thin dry lips before putting down the book he had been studying intensely for many hours. He would need materials, but they were easy to come by. He would need opportunity, which was less easy to come by, but he could create opportunity. The scrying crystal would be a great help there, and soon enough a window would open. Then he had to be ready to move at a moment's notice.  
  
It would take three days at least to prepare everything and get it all set down. Bringing out a piece of parchment and a quill and inkpot he began to sketch out a rough draft of how it would go. Brilliant. He would have three weeks, maximum, then two weeks to recover his energy and strength and no one would be the wiser. If the staff ratted on him, he didn't particularly care. There were excuses he could make. Or he could just lie. His father didn't care as long as he covered up his tracks. That would be easy enough, as long as he kept enough energy for the last spell. but that was a ways away. Looking down, he began to make a list of what he would need.  
  
*  
  
Lamenting again and again the current state of fashion, Hermione pulled off a shirt in the dressing room knowing that she would never be able to find something that was acceptable. It was intrinsically unfair that Harry had been so deucedly easy to shop for whereas it was taking forever to shop for her. Harry waited outside the ladies dressing rooms looking very uncomfortable and awkward as pretty young girls with nice clothes passed by and giggled. His red cheeks made his new look slightly less cool but much more adorable. Large jeans, some interesting shirt combinations, and some sunglasses were all that he really needed, and with his newly spiked hair (not that it had needed much help, just a little styling) he made a very attractive picture. A couple suits too that were quite acceptable. However, holding a girls purse in the ladies section of a highly trendy and alternative shop in a remote part of town did not exactly instill lots of confidence in him for his new look. Hermione, understanding his discomfort, was trying to go as fast as possible but the state of things couldn't be helped. She'd try on something and it would look nice but be too revealing, then another thing that seemed to be pretty but fit like a paper bag around her middle, but she had had some success in that she found one shirt that she liked and an attractive pair of low cut jeans.  
  
".mion. ee.. Soon. ple.." The mumble was low but distinctively Harry from outside somewhere.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Hermione we need to go soon, please," she could practically hear the blush in his voice "I don't know how much more of this I can take."  
  
"Ten more minutes and then I promise we'll be out of here. Just be grateful I don't have to go buy makeup too. Although I do need to get shoes after this." His groan made her smile. She sighed as she faced the last garments in a pile by her side. Picking up a skit she renewed her efforts.  
  
There was some rustling from the dressing room and Harry waited somewhat impatiently for Hermione to emerge. When she did she did not look happy, but there was no distinctive disappointment so Harry assumed all would be well. After all, his shopping had gone so quickly that he couldn't imagine why hers was so time consuming. Being so picky, but knowing what she wanted, made the shoe shopping go quickly enough and they made their way back to Hermione's so that she could change and get ready for their first attempt to paint the town red. He didn't have to wait too long, but the Hermione that strode into the living room was slightly different than the one he had expected. Since it was still warm in the night, she had gone for a tank top that exposed a fair amount of her midriff in a pattern with lots of Japanese characters on the material, some black Capri pants, and black with white striped platform tennis shoes. Her makeup was striking and exotic, with black eyeliner and blue lipstick.  
  
"I feel like a clown Harry." She grimaced as she tried to cover up some of her bare middle. "Among other things."  
  
"Well, you look lovely. Besides, you aren't the one who is going to be wearing sunglasses at night." He gave a lopsided smile. "I'm the real fool here."  
  
"Oh hush, that's why we bought you different colors." Hermione pulled him through the front door towards the car. "Now let's get moving since it's already 9 and it takes almost an hour to get somewhere and park, and if I'm going to be in this getup then someone better damn well see me besides you."  
  
"That's all well and good but where are we going.?"  
  
"Wherever the music is loudest!"  
  
*  
  
So what's this, thought Draco, pretty little Hermione is going out dancing at night? The scry dissolved immediately as he couldn't keep his thoughts on the surroundings themselves. The way she looked had been new and provocative, for her, at any rate. It had only made him even happier that the project was going forward so smoothly. Plans swirled instead where images had momentarily before existed. It was too easy, and he wished she had at least made it difficult a little bit. No matter, she and wonder boy Potter could do the town as much as they wanted as long as two days from now they were gone for at least three hours from Hermione's house. That's how long it would take to put the spell on her parents. It was quite ingenious really. The spell was designed to integrate with past memories making the new memories absolutely seamless, and when the spell itself was used up then the false memories would evaporate leaving a blank spot in which most people didn't even miss. They would most likely assume whatever happened most frequently had been the reality. No harm, not traceable, but needing constant maintenance it was still illegal to practice due to its insidious nature. The parents would believe what he needed them to believe and then they would forget it. Hermione he would fix by putting a memory charm on her at the end. She would forget everything, her parents would forget, and everyone would assume that they had been doing what they had been doing for the past few weeks. Routine was a beautiful thing. The only one who could mess everything up was Potter. He needed to get that nasty scarred little prat out of the way for a few weeks.  
  
Walking up the steps he tried to think of something convincing. Just removing Potter would be difficult and suspicious. What would be effective as a short but undeniable removal from Hermione's presence for three weeks? The problem didn't trouble him for long as he realized that a trip somewhere would remove Harry quite simply from the picture just as his parents had been made absent. Those ghastly muddy Dursleys were as common as they came, and would be greedy enough not to question a free vacation to, oh, India. Draco smiled hideously, but not from pleasure. It would be expensive, it would be suspicious, but they were too stupid to think about why it was wrong. Maybe if he had it be that Harry won and that he had to go if the rest were to, then they would insist on taking him. Otherwise they would leave him behind for sure and doom the whole project.  
  
It would be a pittance to send four people to India for three weeks or more. He could put down some rubbish about how they'd be the envy of all their friends, or whatever it was that those Muggle travel brochures said. The point was Potter would soon be gone. When Granger went to see Harry off at the airport, then for sure he could have someone delay her so that he could enchant her parents. Then when she got home that evening.  
  
Now the smile, equally hideous, was one of pleasure and anticipation.  
  
*  
  
"I'm so sorry Hermione, I really am. We were just starting to get to know some people and go to some really interesting places." Harry looked frazzled and apologetic.  
  
"I know. Who knew that something like this would happen? I mean, it seems pretty fishy, but then why would the dark forces want you to be with your whole family and someplace like India as well? It just doesn't make sense and I don't like it." She gave Harry a hug. "You take care, and write me lots, even if it is regular mail. I'll probably get it the day after you get back anyway."  
  
"C'mon you rotten little baggage! We can't go without you!" Mr. Dursley, dressed in ridiculous looking shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, looked menacingly at Harry and then stalked back to his waiting wife and son.  
  
"Better get going. 'Mione take care. Careful in the clubs alone, I mean, I won't be there to protect you anymore." Harry hugged his friend back before picking up his bag and walking back towards the Dursleys.  
  
Hermione waved him goodbye and sighed. She would probably not go to any clubs. Not for another three weeks at least. She would probably just stay at home and read. Ultimately, she would be half right, but she had no idea as she waved what was happening at her house. In fact, even when the car got a flat and she got no response from home she still wasn't alarmed. It was a Saturday and her parents could have gone out shopping or something, and it was easy enough to call a tow truck. She was a capable and intelligent young woman and she did not fear getting a flat tire here or there. Then the tow truck man with the new tire was so slow that she felt it took hours for him to get there let alone get the tire changed and ready for her to drive on it again. But eventually it was finished, and she gave him the billing information a bit crossly as at this point she was ready to go and maybe change her clothes since it had been a terribly hot day and the sweat was rolling down her back in sticky droplets. Soon enough Harry would probably be in worse heat. Or maybe it was the monsoon season, or something equally interesting. Stifling her loneliness at thoughts of Harry and Ron, she pulled into the driveway with a satisfying crank of the steering wheel. The house was quiet and she went to the bathroom immediately to take a cool shower and get the dirt of the road, (or more accurately the side of the road) off of her. The water was heavenly, and soon enough she was dried off and changed into some of her regular plain comfortable clothes.  
  
Selecting a book to read, she made her way downstairs to get some water and ice. Holding the ice tray, she turned to find that Draco Malfoy was leaning against her kitchen counter. With a gasp the tray fell with a clatter and the glass-like sound of ice shattering on the floor. Her first thought was where she had put her wand. upstairs and eternities of space away in this situation. Malfoy had the upper hand, and she stilled as if spotlights had been flashed onto her, but her heart beat that much faster in cold fear.  
  
"You have nothing to be afraid of, Granger. In fact, I'm sure you'll find that there may even be something to be glad of." The smirk was evil and he knew it. "You're parents are safe. They're taking a nap at the moment actually. You see, the past couple of hours have been very trying for all of us."  
  
"What did you do to them?" The anger under the fear was obvious and growing. The protectiveness was edged with a sense of confusion as to why he was doing something so aggressive and incriminating.  
  
"Nothing really. Nothing that they'd ever notice, or anyone else for that matter." He paused a moment. "Maybe you, I suppose." He walked towards her, wand out and ready in case she tried anything to pick up the discarded ice tray from the floor and place it on a counter. "You see, they are now convinced that you are home right now but unavailable to talk and very very busy."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, you see, as long as you are home but reclusive then no one will ask where you are?"  
  
"And where shall I be?"  
  
"Why, I'm ever so glad you asked!" his eyes lit up, giving them a healthy sparkle. He moved closely next to her so that lips were close to her right ear. "With me of course." he whispered. As her eyes widened in shock Draco gave a large step back and shouted out something quickly just as Hermione made to dive behind the counter in the middle of the kitchen to get out of range. She was too late and fell heavily to the ground in a deep sleep. Grimacing, because the way she had hit the floor would probably leave a few painful bruises, Draco dragged her body over to the fireplace. Throwing in the floo powder, he felt assured. Things had gone better than he thought they would. 


	2. Chapter 2

Writing sex scenes of any kind make me really uncomfortable so I tend to skirt the issue a bit. (i.e. things are not too graphic, I don't think) And I try to avoid using words like "manhood" and "flower", because I find them silly, and words like "cock" and "clit" are too blunt so I avoid them too. I'm also really not happy that 99 times out of 100 both the main characters finish at the same time and have a fabulous time at that regardless of first times or anything. So I tried to make things more convincing to my own understanding. I still think I failed horribly to make this too interesting or romantic but meh. (insert noncommittal shrug here) This of this as my warning that sex happens sometime in this section.  
  
Ha ha, HAHAHAHAHAHA I don't know. I just got done reading a lot of JTHM, (those of you who know what I'm talking about get nail bunny points) and hence am feeling random. It's even worse to listen to Belle and Sebastian, (who rock by the way) while thinking about JTHM. My concentration has been faltering so I may have massive character and/or continuity errors, but I am resolved to not edit this because it is not worth all that much time.  
  
Again, I own nothing except for some books and music and my happy computer of doom.  
  
  
  
Part 2: The Play  
  
  
  
Groggily, and painfully as well, Hermione opened her eyes to greet a dark room. After a brief moment of disorientation she then gathered her scattered wits and immediately got up to try to find a way out, not really caring where she happened to be to need to get out of. It was a mistake to get up so quickly because her head throbbed in a way that promised a lump of some kind that would probably be large and unattractive for some time. Indeed she soon found it, and a soft moan escaped her lips as her fingers probed it gently over her hair. Large and painful, just as she suspected it would be. Slowly rotating her head around, because the vertigo was too sickening otherwise, she took in her surroundings: thick dark curtains, a large canopied four poster bed, a vanity with enormous oval mirror, a door on either side of the room and one smaller door across from the windows, two large windows which displayed a glorious moon and clear stars. Hmmm. With that many stars she must be in the country someplace. Blast her head hurt. It made all thinking foggy and jagged. Stumbling towards the first door she pulled it open to find a bathroom. Sink, toilet, bathtub, but no shower. It was large and expensive looking with elegant tile work, albeit menacing, with dragons and serpents in mosaics on the walls. Sinister in the moonlight, she decided to not enter any further and closed the door. The door across from the windows was also no help being a mere closet full of clothes.  
  
Only one door left. She walked over and pulled at it finding it opened easily as the others had. Not that it availed anything. It was some sort of sitting room, or the like because all it contained were some bookshelves, cabinets, and several large comfortable looking chairs. The windows in this room also let in moonlight giving all the dark furniture an eerie ghostly look. There were the windows to her right and a wall straight ahead, but one more door to her left. This time she couldn't open it no matter how hard she pulled, (which was not very hard for after the initial jerk at it her head felt like ripe fruit being hit by a mace) and so sat down in a chair to try and recover a bit before she again got up to look out the window. They unlatched and swung open, but any hopes of escape by this route were quickly quenched as she saw the three story drop beneath. A brambly wall appeared to surround the house, but Hermione wondered as to why the people would bother when there was at least half a mile of open grasses before she saw a forest. No other houses in her line of sight, and she hadn't really thought there would be any. When you kidnapped a person you didn't exactly take them to the middle of a metropolitan area of any kind.  
  
Braving the frightening bathroom she fumbled the light switch on and splashed some water on her face. The water was nice and cool and gave some relief to her poor head now thoroughly aggravated by all her movement even if it wasn't very vigorous. Her mind sped through reasons and situations that would involve her like this. At once she felt alarmed for Ron and Harry, as if she was in some sort of trouble than they were probably in far worse trouble. Her concern made her scowl and pace, but eventually the need to sleep forced her to take refuge on the bed. Even as she knew it was not a good idea to sleep when you have a head injury, the pull was too strong and it was either pass out on the floor while pacing or fall asleep on the bed. She chose the latter. The pain passed out of her mind and into troubled dreams where Draco Malfoy became a giant snake and devoured Harry and Ron while she wept.  
  
*  
  
It felt like she had slept on rocks. Many many pointy horrible rocks. More likely it was the bruises on her side, but the effect was the same at any rate. Her head felt surprisingly good, in fact it felt completely better. No bump, how curious. Sitting up in bed she looked over at the window to only find closed curtains blowing softly outwards with cracks of sunlight seeping in. Going over to the window, she looked into the sky to see a peak of sun just cresting her line of sight. It felt like early afternoon, and she was not surprised. Not that time had much meaning for her at the moment. She could not glory in the peaceful green spread out before her when she, and most likely Harry and Ron as well, were in grave danger. Not really knowing what to do, she opened the door to the sitting room. It was brightly lit comparative to the bedroom and she had to squint a bit until her eyes adjusted.  
  
"You certainly slept quite a while. One would think you to be a more early riser." Clearly Malfoy had had quite a long time to set himself up. Impeccable in a white collared shirt and black pants, he set down the book he was reading and rose from his chair to give a slight bow.  
  
"Don't mock me. Where are Harry and Ron?"  
  
"On their trips I suppose. How am I supposed to know where your little friends are?"  
  
"You lie. Tell me why I'm here. I can tell you that any ransom you can ask for won't be given. I'd sooner kill myself than let you draw Harry or Ron into a trap." Her voice was defiant but steady. She looked at him levelly and he saw that she was not exaggerating; as she was perfectly ready to end her own life if she thought it would save her friends. Nothing new, same old noble Hermione.  
  
"I may lie sometimes, but this time I tell you I am being perfectly earnest." He slowly walked towards where she stood in the doorframe. "The only person here, and likely the only person who will be coming here, is you. No little cavalry to the rescue. No sinister monsters tearing you to bits. Just you. and me." With every step he became much more real and dangerous to her eyes. It wasn't just that he was more than half a head taller, or that he obviously knew she couldn't match him in a fight, but the fact that in addition he had his wand out and ready.  
  
Stopping just a foot away, he put his hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes searchingly. "Feel any more reassured?"  
  
"No." Her voice was soft and she was proud there was no tremor. "It still tells me nothing of the motive."  
  
"Boredom. Sheer and utter boredom." He pushed her back into the bedroom, made her sit down on the bed, and then opened the curtains to let in the sun. "Sort of a personal project, I suppose." His tone was conversational as he leaned on the side of the window frame. "There I was with absolutely nothing to do, absolutely gads of time, and not one interesting thing left to do in this great hulking place. Then I thought of you, and Potty, and the Weasel. Oh but wouldn't it be a grand lark to steal away their little girlfriend for a few weeks! How I laughed, and then I thought about it and it began to seem like a better idea than it should have been."  
  
Here he paused and began tapping the wand against his leg. "Yes, you see, after I brought you back here it occurred to me that I was under some sort of temporary insanity. Why would I bring you here?" His voice got thoughtful. "But then I've already gone so far with it I might as well continue."  
  
"I don't know, I mean, I could forgive you and never tell a soul that this happened. I mean, you only put a memory charm on my parents, I assume?" At his nod, she continued. "Well, no harm no foul, if you just took me back then that only proves you can be decent and there won't be any need for me to speak of it again, ever."  
  
Draco, who actually was regretting his actions as he could get in quite a lot of trouble, looked over at exactly the right (or wrong depending on your point of view) moment as Hermione's sleep tousled hair slid down to her shoulder and her shirt strained just a little as she leaned back to reveal a little bit of bra strap. Then he remembered exactly why he had wanted her here. He was going to take her, embarrass her, maybe even retain some evidence and then torture (and possibly blackmail) both her and her little friends with it when the time was ripe. It wouldn't be that tortuous as she was fairly attractive considering.  
  
"Malfoy?" She arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to send me back?" For a moment she looked hopeful, even friendly, and it was that moment of innocence that truly sealed her fate.  
  
"I'm afraid not Granger." His eyes narrowed. "You'll just have to suffer being my, hmm, guest for now. Look on the bright side, I've already gone to the trouble of bringing you your clothes. and there should be all you need for a while. I'll be back in half an hour with an early dinner, as I assume you are probably hungry." He swept out of the room, and before she made it to the bedroom door she heard the other door click and then lock.  
  
This was terrible. Malfoy had lost it, and for some reason in his madness he had decided it would be a good idea to kidnap her. Not for ransom, not as part of a trap. then why? It was probable that he was lying, but with Ron and Harry both far away, things just didn't stack up. Opening the closet, she indeed found her own clothes. In the dresser were her undergarments and sleeping outfits. Bother that snotty git, because if he touched her stuff she wasn't sure she wanted to wear it. In the end clean clothes won over distaste, but she felt stormily angry and helpless. In the bathroom were plenty of toiletries: hairbrush, soap, toothpaste and a toothbrush and all that but what was conspicuously missing was a razor, tweezers, even a nail file. It occurred to her that they would have made handy weapons, and he could see that. Maybe at some point she could get her hands on something, but not at the moment.  
  
She took the brush to the vanity and took the tangles out of her hair. Tonight she would have to try to tear up the sheets on the bed and see if she could make a rope out of it. It would be deucedly difficult to get over the high wall with all the thorny brambles, and then there would be the dash over open ground, but if she got to the forest she just might. a knock at the door interrupted her flow of thought. Composing herself, she opened it to Draco's calm neutral face. He gestured towards the small table where some fruit, sandwiches, and a salad were sitting. When they sat, Draco started to eat slowly but Hermione made no motion towards the food.  
  
"Don't like chicken?" She shook her head. "So suspicious, how very appropriate of you." He took a bit of each thing from her plate and ate them. She still made no motion that she would eat. "I suppose you think starving yourself will do anyone good?" Her eyes got cloudy for a moment, and he saw that she was angry for a flash before she got control again. Cool, glassy, how very much fun it will be to break her.what a lovely game for the summer holiday.  
  
Setting down his silverware and dabbing his face with a napkin, he looked her in the eyes again. It was unsettling because he hardly ever blinked and there seemed to be no emotion behind the stare besides curiosity. "You know, I don't have to be nice to you."  
  
The words were followed by a little sardonic laugh. "I could force you to eat, I could starve you even more easily. I could violate you however I liked and not a soul would come to your rescue or hear your screams. I could do it all as much as I liked, and then I could charm you and you would never remember it took place. And then I could do it all over again. really Granger, you think I would have healed your head if I wanted you to suffer?"  
  
Shivers ran down her spine at his words, but she retained an indifferent look and didn't move. It was nice to know why the pain went away so fast, but it didn't change things one bit. She was brave and would stand by what she thought was the right decision to make in this situation. Draco rose slowly and walked over to her. Firmly grasping her arms, he forced her to stand with a strength she didn't think he possessed and with a tone like steel wrapped in silk said, "I could hand you over to the Death Eaters. You could just as easily be killed or used by them. But I won't as long as you act as I want you to. I don't need to be your enemy." And with that he kissed her, still pinning her arms to her sides. It wasn't gentle, and she wasn't cooperative even as his tongue ran over her lips in a way that made her nervous. She still refused to open her lips or take an active part as he sucked her bottom lip just a little, so she felt his teeth clamp down on that same lip and slowly bite down. His sharp teeth hurt quite a bit and soon she felt a drip of what could only be her blood slide down her chin.  
  
"I will possess you as no other ever has, and you'd do yourself a favor if you got that implanted in that fertile little mind of yours immediately." He pushed her back just hard enough to make her stumble and then stalked out to the hallway and quickly shut and locked the door. The lock was just so that she could hear something for the real thing that stopped the door from being opened was the spell that had been put on it years ago when his crazy old aunt had been locked in these apartments. It was ideal as a prison since nothing was breakable within it thanks to magic, and it was impossible to get out of except for a three story drop onto a lovely gravel path surrounding the house. But this knowledge only flashed a moment in his brain as he cursed and gave the wall a sharp punch with his fist.  
  
It was all wrong. He hadn't planned on moving this early. Things had gone all wrong. He was going to threaten her a little, and then something snapped and he kissed her. Damn. Now the timing was all off, and he'd have to try a different tactic next time. If only she hadn't been so haughty, then he wouldn't have felt like scaring her. Blood welled up on his knuckles, as he had punched a stone wall, but he didn't really care, as the pain would subside after a while. At least the pain distracted him some from his anger and desire, which only made things that much more aggravating. It was a good thing she hadn't been closer, or else she'd have noticed more than his tongue poking her. Aggravating, incomprehensible, abominable. mudblood. The word hissed in his mind. He'd take her eventually and then the nasty creature would be out of his blood. Then he would put her back in her home, and he would be armed with some valuable information with the bonus of having had a little fun getting it. The laugh had a frantic edge to it as he pushed back some hair from his face, smearing a little of it with blood. A shower would do him good, a nice COLD shower.  
  
"Damn you Hermione."  
  
*  
  
"Stupid, childish, horrible." The words were mumbled and shaky. She dabbed with the dark green towels at her lip which was only now stopping the steady stream of blood that had been coursing down it for a minute or two. The mosaic was reflected in the mirror and she tried not to look to hard at the gaping mouths full of sharp teeth. There was a drop of blood, now turning brown, on her shirt and it would probably never come out. She focused as hard as she could on her anger and attention to small details so that the other feelings wouldn't trouble her as much: fear, cold and very real, edged with something else she refused to put a name to.  
  
"He's clearly gone insane." She spoke softly to her reflection, noting she looked about as scared and childish as if she were five and a parent had lost her in a department store. "There's no other explanation. Hopefully, he will come to his senses and then take me home. But then again, this is Malfoy, I'd even bet insanity ran in his family." (She was not too far off here, but it only showed up about once every four generations and mostly on his mother's side.) "The fact is that I am stuck here with an angry, powerful, and aggressive man who seems to want more power over me than he already has. That's why he kissed me, for he had to make his point. Yes. that's what it was. Well, he won't win. I can let him think he's winning, I have patience and can bide my time until I have the chance." Her thoughts continued on this vein and her rational and panicked mind disassociated from the events of moments before. The fact that he had kissed her, and something in her had liked it, was a secret she wanted to bury deep in her mind.  
  
The problem was now before her of what exactly she should do. Up to this point she had been very inactive. It seemed a better idea to know where she stood, but now she no longer had that luxury. He wanted something from her and, if that kiss was anything to judge by, it was more than information. At this point she had to ask herself how bad it would actually be to comply. She could be businesslike about it, just like school, and maybe this way she could actually get the upper hand.  
  
You're no temptress, Hermione, and you must face the facts that that boy will probably not be that impressed by what you could offer anyway. Her mind was such a traitor. No faith, that's what was wrong with the world today. Looking down at her outfit she was sure she did not look particularly alluring. Nothing she owned was all that alluring actually. Well, that wasn't entirely true, since there was that one. no she wouldn't stoop to that. Maybe it would be enough to play the shy innocent virgin, (an easy enough part to play when one was qualified). She knew the way it was supposed to go, she had made sure to educate herself on the technical aspects of things and most of the details had been filled in by Gryffindor girls and their gossip. Briefly she remembered them talking about Malfoy, and about how sinister and sexy he had become. Much different than that snotty, greasy little first year worm. but as far as Hermione was concerned he was that same boy only much taller and much less in control of his mental capacities.  
  
She looked at the evening sun shining in the window and felt a nice cool breeze. The room was really quite warm now, as the sun had been shining in it for hours. A drip of sweat dropped down her back from her neck. She picked up the sheets and tried to rip them into strips. No luck. After pulling and biting at it for quite some time she determined that it just wasn't going to break. Maybe if she tied it to the curtain then she could drop softly enough not to break anything. But then the wall and the field. it seemed hopeless because she wasn't all that athletic. Rather than do nothing, she wandered into the sitting room and looked at the books on the shelves. For a moment it seemed oddly familiar, and then she quickly saw that they were actually her books from her room. They had been her month's reading plan, with about four huge textbooks and a couple other books on general spells just for enrichment. He must have gotten them off of the floor where they had been piled up in order of reading priority, and in fact where shelved from left to right in that order. How very kind, she thought dryly, I suppose he expects me to be grateful? Actually, he probably does. I'd better mention it next time I see him. There wasn't much alarm in her thoughts, mostly sad acceptance. She would attempt an escape tonight, and if that failed she could go with compliance until a better opportunity afforded itself.  
  
*  
  
He smiled in that devilish way, not menacing, just evil. How cute, she was trying to find away over the wall. The bird had notified him that he had sent to guard her windows as soon as she made her move. Now he was standing outside in boxers and a shirt watching her from a distance as she attempted to broach the thorn encrusted wall that stood between her and a long dash for the woods. It would be quite useless, and he almost laughed out loud when she tried to use the coat she had brought to provide a buffer from the thorns. When that was torn through, she took off her shirt and tried to use that. Now clad in a bra and jeans she tried to start climbing and he saw her grimace of pain as the thorns were surely embedding in her hands. They were painful, he knew, and very sharp. He was impressed that she even got a couple feet up of the fifteen total that she would have to scale. Falling back, clutching bleeding hands she began to cry. It had really been too much to be brave for this long and now the pain and the stress were taking their toll. She hadn't thought that she would actually fail to escape.  
  
Wrapping a robe around him, Draco walked up to her crying form that now was wearing the torn up shirt and jacket and rocking back and forth. She was really bleeding quite badly. He'd have to remember to find the antidote for the venom on the thorns or else she'd be asleep all tomorrow. That would waste a whole hard-earned day and he didn't want that. For a moment he considered her broken weeping form. Such weakness, and right in front of him. She most likely didn't know he was there. In a calculated move he carefully wrapped him arms around her. At the moment it was all too surreal and she just leaned in and cried harder. One thorn had gone all the way through her hand, he saw, and he gained new respect for her tenacity. When the tears subsided a bit she stiffened. The moment was over, he supposed.  
  
"Now you know, you just can't get out. In the day, in the night, as long as you are here I am watching." He spoke gently as if he were telling her things were all going to be just fine. Her tears must have started up again because he felt them drop onto his arms, which were wrapped around her front. No noise though, so she was crying out of frustration or some similar hopelessness, this was better than he would have hoped for at this stage.  
  
"Take me back to my room." The words were flat, the tone level. From that he knew she probably had some fight but at least was reconciled a bit to things. What an extraordinarily funny person she was. This was amusing and well worth all the effort and danger. Mind games were so easy when the subject analyzed everything so logically.  
  
She rose without him making a move and began to walk forward towards the house. Not really knowing where she was going, she merely walked slowly and in a straight line. Blood dripped down her hands leaving a trail behind on either side. What an amazing sight she made, Draco thought, with her hands covered in blood that looked black in the night, her silver blue skin showing through tears in her clothes. She was like a wounded goddess. For a moment he had a vision of shooting down Selene from the moon and he thought that she would look just like this. Beautiful and broken, momentarily, for he knew that she would get all her courage back soon enough. Following, he brought her into the house through the kitchen so that she wouldn't bleed on the rugs.  
  
*  
  
She lay in bed, looking at the sun peak through the window. Soon enough it would light everything up so that all the different greens and creams would glow in a rather pretty way. Her hands were bandaged up, but not completely healed. He said she would always have scars from the thorns and the scars would hurt for a few days, but not enough to really impair dexterity. He said that he was glad she had tried to escape because now she knew how futile it was. He said she was a funny creature, and he didn't understand why she wouldn't more graciously accept his hospitality. She still refused to eat and now she wouldn't talk either. He had frowned and left in a huff not an hour ago with the food he had brought. She ran her tongue over the swollen and red spot where her lip was healing from his bite yesterday. It tasted rusty and felt funny, like she had merely bitten the inside of her lip while chewing or something.  
  
Her mind was wandering quite a bit. She hadn't eaten in well over a day and even though she drank water from the faucet, she could not keep this up for much longer. It did no good to be weak, and she was getting quite weak. Maybe when he came back for dinner she would eat something. Hopefully he would come back. How ironic that now she was actually awaiting his return. Recognizing that there was no use in moping about, she got up and ran a bath. It was nice cool water to ease the heat of the day, and she felt much more relieved to do something so mundane and comforting. Shutting her eyes blocked out the hideous mosaics that made her feel watched, and the bath was just what she needed so that her thinking cleared. Being conciliatory was the only real option left now. It was not as bad as she thought it might be. There was no doubt there were some unpleasant episodes in her future, but she was strong enough and the fact that she'd pull through in the end sustained and quieted her raging and bruised sense of honor and bravery. I can't be brave if I'm dead. There was noise in the bedroom, and then a knock at the door to the bathroom. Oh bother.  
  
"I'll be out in fifteen minutes!"  
  
"As you please." His voice seemed to be amused by something. "Take your time."  
  
After the promised time had elapsed plus another five minutes more, she peaked her head out of the bathroom, hair plastered wetly to her forehead, and tried to see if he was in the bedroom. Seeing distinct lack of Malfoy, she emerged in a towel and began to dress. When that was completed, she let down her hair, brushed it, and went into the sitting room where he was looking out of the window at something. When he looked over, he cocked an eyebrow before moving towards her. She had put on one of her shorter skirts, so that a good portion of her thigh was exposed (thank god she waxed recently what with a razor not being available). Her shirt fit but gave the impression that it was just a little too small and might at any moment burst a button. Her hair was all around her shoulders and face in soft, slightly frizzy waves and she met his eyes with no expression in her own.  
  
"Aren't you a little overdressed? Weasel and Potty aren't here to be dazzled."  
  
"I thought I might as well look nice for dinner."  
  
"So you'll join me then?" At her nod a delighted expression lit his face. "I'll order something truly splendid to be made. Until then, have an apple." He tossed one to her from a bowl of fruit that must be newly arrived in the room, as it hadn't been there yesterday.  
  
Never did an apple taste so good. Yes, I understand the significance you prat. Go on and smirk, I know what you're doing and you won't get away with it. I won't be toyed with. She smiled wanly and bit into the apple again, as there was no reason not to savor this moment before all hell broke loose, so far as she was concerned. She wandered over to the window and munched thoughtfully. When she had finished and thrown away the core she considered licking her fingers, slowly, but then dismissed the idea as too crass and obvious. After returning from washing the sticky apple juices off, she suggested a game of chess.  
  
Draco didn't know what he had been expecting from her, but this behavior was much too calm to be real. Yet he wouldn't question it for now as it was nice enough to be amused without having to force her to play along. He went and ordered dinner to be prepared while he got the chess set, wizard chess naturally. On his return he was greeted to the sight of Hermione with her nose pushed up close to a book, avidly reading about something. It would have seemed normal and typical except for the fact that she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in a skirt and leaning very far forward in a tight yet gaping shirt. Unwittingly, her own habits had managed what her calculated attempts had not, and Draco was completely set off guard for a moment. Dazed, turned on, and somewhat confused he shook his head to try and clear the image from his brain since she quickly rose and snapped the book shut on seeing him. Inwardly she cursed, thinking that seeing her up to her old habits had ruined any sort of femininity she had managed to project up to this point. It would be best to salvage what she could.  
  
"Here, let me set up the chess set." Now she realized that maybe chess wasn't so good of an idea. The nature of long terrible silences didn't give one much room for seduction. Not that she really knew what to do. The whole plan of being in control seemed a little shaky and ill contrived. As a whole it had such a high rate of failure that there was almost no point in trying it. Besides if she were unpleasant to Malfoy then he might leave her alone and then she could read the time away until she had a more concrete situation to deal with. and such was the nature of Hermione's thoughts.  
  
Across the board, Draco was wondering why Hermione's moves were so badly planned. She seemed distracted whenever he looked at her, as if she were not really playing, and it got to the point where he was essentially just moving pieces around the board setting up his own checkmate by predicting where she would move her pieces. It was strange and frustrating, mainly because he would have liked to challenge his skill and the whole game was a bust, but he didn't want to stop it since she was staring off into space and chewing on the end of one nail absently and it was interesting to watch the play of thoughts across her face. Whatever it is must be very engrossing, he thought, and I think maybe I should break things up a bit. He reached under the table and grabbed her knee.  
  
What happened next could only be described as "surprising", and maybe "catastrophic": Hermione, startled out of her thoughts by what she perceived as an attack, kicked upwards sending the small table, chessboard, and chess pieces flying about the room like shrapnel with a few sailing out of the window. The shriek she gave made Draco's ears ring, and the slap she delivered to his face moments after, before all the chess pieces had even hit the ground, shocked them both even as the inertia of the slap sent an already unsteady Hermione careening forward into Draco shoulder first. Like a proper tackle, only he was still sitting, it sent the both of them - with the chair - to the floor. The last piece, a knight, hit the carpet by Draco's eye.  
  
Stunned, cheek smarting and red, Draco gave a look around. Since nothing could be broken, it just looked very messy and scattered in the room. The most interesting feature of this mess was that sitting up, straddling his chest, was a white and startled Hermione who had indeed popped a button and whose shirt was now off to one side showing quite a bit more than she suspected it did. On her part she was confused and a little scared as all she had done was react to a stimulus and now the world had apparently fallen around her, like Armageddon in miniature. All she could hope was that he didn't do something nasty for her behavior, but she was damned if she was going to show one jot of that fear. Then she heard him chuckle. It wasn't evil, or even malicious; it was honest laughter at the ridiculous situation. Then, in a mercurial shift of mood, he sat up and kissed her. It was too sudden for her to have put up any defenses and she reacted just as instinctively to it as she had to him grabbing her knee. It was soft and warm and her mind unwound in large lazy loops so that her scattered wits didn't collect so much as coalesce in a pool. A knock at the door, sharp and hard, broke the moment and she remembered exactly who she was and, more importantly, who she was with. She heard Malfoy cursing low and powerfully as he opened the door and picked up the food tray.  
  
"No worries, Malfoy, we can play again tomorrow. I mean the chess set can't be that scattered." Her voice sounded so small, even to her.  
  
"Just shut up and eat Granger."  
  
*  
  
He felt surly and tired. It had been a week since she first came here already. A third of the time had passed, and still he had not gotten what he wanted when he first conceived his plan. Truly, it would have been much better if it were not so confusing with her. Some days she would be nice, acting the part of the seductress very clumsily. Other days she changed her mind and became a fiendish prude, and it often all happened within the same day. It had become something like routine in that he would come in some time in the afternoon whenever he got bored and then they would play chess until dinner and then she would beg off spending any more time with him saying she was tired. He had let it go on long enough. Things were mechanical and superficial, which is just what she had wanted. Now he knew there was going to be no more playing by her rules. The time had come to start things more aggressively, even though he thought she was going to do his job for him when she had put on the seduction act. He could not wait for her wavering decisions any longer. At the very least he needed to ease his raging hormones. The longer he spent in her presence the more he just wanted to jump on her and. no he had to be suave. If he was going to get evidence it needed to look at least a little voluntary. While he still had his strength in good amounts he had to make his move, for maintaining the spell on her family was already taking its toll.  
  
*  
  
Things had gone rather well the past few days. She had plenty of time in the morning to read, and now that she knew her life wasn't in active danger she could appreciate her surroundings a little bit. It was much easier to pretend she was taking a holiday in the country than to think about reality. Truthfully, except for a few incidents at the beginning, her treatment here had not been bad. As long as she didn't look at the scars on her hands or lip it was a nice illusion. She wondered how long it would be this peaceful. Up to this point things had gone her way. Her luck was under a lot of strain.  
  
Almost on cue a knock at the door came, then a note slid under the door. Apparently Draco would be later than usual tonight. No problem. The only reason she regretted the delay was the lack of a real meal until he came. Fruit and nuts were well enough, but she was hungry. Books are food enough, she told herself, and I will rise to be a high level witch. and crush Malfoy for kidnapping me, the worm. They were idle thoughts mainly. Her active hate had mellowed quite a bit since they had spent too much peaceful time together. If he had known that all those days of inaction had done him better in her mind than a single hour of force he might have been less biliously angry when he finally came in that night.  
  
The day had been warmer than usual for summer. The open windows and stone surrounding walls could not seal in enough cool since the sun shone in for hours and hours, and the decorations were so dark. Hermione was sweating quite a lot, despite having taken a cold bath not one hour earlier. She was running out of clean clothing and had put on some shorts she had already worn and a stringy tank top to try to stay cool. Nothing was really helping, since the night air was humid and oppressive. It must have been ten at least because it was dark enough, but Malfoy still wasn't there. She laid down on the floor and fanned herself with a piece of paper, mainly for the breeze since it wasn't doing any tangible good. When the door opened her heat drugged mind didn't register it.  
  
What she did register was that someone had come in and that someone was NOT HAPPY. When Hermione looked up she wondered why she had thought that because he was smiling very nicely and bearing food. The food was cool, the drinks were cool, and nothing else was important.  
  
"I hope you weren't too bored today Granger," his voice was so smooth "I had to take care of some details, but that's not important right now." When she had finished eating he began to speak again. "Do you know why I brought you here? It was because one day I remember that I saw you at school and I just couldn't bear it anymore. I knew I needed you, and you would never see me as anything but slime." He got up and crossed the room. "Please. Hermione, I still need you." He thought he had put just enough unsure waver in the tone to be particularly pitiful sounding.  
  
"Bull shit."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I may be sick from heat, but I can still spot a lie. You didn't care one bit whether I lived until a few weeks ago though I dare say you cared if I died." The heat had made her speaking imprudent, for she continued. "I don't really know why I'm here, but I do know that heat or no heat you're far crazier than I'll ever be." Then her brain caught up and she cut herself off. Running a finger over book spines - A History. The Uses of. Magical Forces.- Draco didn't turn for a moment. The air had suddenly become quite cold to Hermione, as did her sweat. His mood had been dangerously close to the edge and now she knew she had gone too far.  
  
"Perhaps I have been acting irrationally." The voice was slow, and loaded with something she couldn't place. "But I'll fix that problem tonight. It wasn't all BS you know, because you, my dear disgusting little mudblood, have inadvertently become exactly what I want. I've been fairly patient, but I don't think I want to be patient any more." He turned and she saw the something in his voice must be lust, anger, and conviction all mixed together making him very dangerous indeed. He crossed the room quickly and grabbed her arms, dragging her into the bedroom and throwing her onto the bed with enough force to make her roll into one of the posts sharply. She gave a gasp of pain, and then she began to get angry.  
  
This was a bad situation and right now Draco was a bad person to be trapped in a room with. His belt went ripping across the room, and his shirt buttons were halfway undone exposing his undershirt damp with sweat. Maybe it had been the heat. That must be the solution, and gauging things as best as she could she sprang off the bed and made a dash for the bathroom while his back was turned to her. She made it and slammed the door in his face. A feral snarl of rage turned into something like a growl and chuckle from the side of the door where Hermione did not want to be. The lock on the door blew backwards right past her thigh, hitting the tile with a crack but, of course, not breaking it. Apparently this room was not magic proof. The anger was running out, and the fear was making the bile in the back of her throat rise.  
  
"You little bitch, you think you can escape that easily? I'll show you who holds the power here." He kicked the door, or that's what she assumed because she was flung backwards with quite a bit of force. The minor scrape on her hand and the bruise on her back did not worry her half as much as the icy eyes regarding her with less ferocious energy and much more confident certainty. "Now are you going to play nice, or will it be kicking and screaming?"  
  
The pause was enough to frazzle her nerves. But she knew what she had to say, just as he knew she'd have to say it. "Kicking and screaming, you bastard." She met his eyes steadily and without a trace of how her insides were threatening to escape starting with her stomach through her throat, which was how she felt.  
  
He gave a low laugh and tapped his wand against his lower lip. Hermione thought of her scar briefly. "Somehow I was hoping you'd say that." The murmur was low and the swipe of the wand was definite, but the pain was no less even if she had heard him utter the curse. Rather than being sick she now felt as if her internal organs really were pulling apart and trying to break out of her body through each separate pore. Once the pain stopped, as he had only let it last a moment or two, she wondered how far away her screams had echoed. "Now my dear, if you would kindly get up and walk over to the bed." She did that much, the pain fresh in her mind. He had stripped the undershirt off but put his plain white one on just to cover up his skin. No hair on his chest. How odd. She had to focus on the little things or else she would start crying.  
  
"Now I want you to take off your shirt and shorts."  
  
"Go to hell."  
  
"You first."  
  
The pain was just as bad this time. She couldn't say worse because there was no way anything could hurt worse than this. Death would have been welcome. She considered biting her own tongue off and bleeding to death just so she could spit the bloody piece on his immaculate white shirt. Then nothing. Her nerves were no longer on fire but now she felt numb. This is what defeat feels like. I couldn't do it. I wasn't strong enough. I should have killed myself. The clothing was removed. Now, legs to the side and pressed together, arms crossed over her bra she tried to retain some modesty, some honor.  
  
The eyes were still defiant, but there was something lost now. Hope. He realized. She has no more hope of winning. He considered laughing, but it didn't seem to be right. No matter, he knew what he had come here for. "Lie down." She complied; eyes open, staring at the canopy above her. He stripped off everything but his boxers, the wand he considered a moment and then threw out the window. All the advantage he needed now lay in his greater strength and the fact that he was in his own home. She hadn't looked at him, not that it would have mattered if she knew where the wand was or not. He crawled on top of her and ran his hands over her body. They were both sweaty from the warm night and it made his hands slick on her skin. He watched as where his fingers traced goosebumps rose up, and delighted in the liberty to do what he had wanted to do for so long. So much time thinking about this moment and he was overwhelmed with how much he wanted to possess her.  
  
Leaning down to her neck he gave it a slow kiss then a soft bite. Mine. It was a wonderful feeling. It was like when he was a child and received his first broom, only more so. The contact made him painfully erect and he wondered how it would feel to be inside of her. Unless her little friends had made a move she was probably still intact. The whole concept of first blood made him think of duels, like knights in past days, and he felt it a mute point, as he was already the victor. The humor of winning before drawing blood distracted him from his business only a fraction of a second. Closing his eyes, he placed his lips over hers lightly. It was like last time in that she was immobile and he was forcing things. When his tongue entered her mouth she started to bite down and he gripped the sides of her arms painfully until her teeth eased up again. While exploring her mouth he ran his hand over her breast, feeling the nipple harden, and squeezed gently mostly just to feel it mold into his hand as her bra was still on. Her body was obviously responding to him even if her mind was not. This knowledge only made things that much better for him as he grated his hips on hers for the pleasure and pain it gave him. There was plenty of time to enjoy this. Then he opened his eyes.  
  
Withdrawing, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Hermione's eyes. Glassily she stared at the ceiling, but he could have cared less if from the sides of her eyes tears had not been streaming, making her hair wet and the pillow beneath as well from the look of things. From 'ready to rape her' to 'totally disinterested' had only taken a look at her streaming eyes. Pulling off of her he pulled on his pants and shirt, after a moment she looked over at him.  
  
"Put your clothes back on." He said it thoughtfully. "I think we need to have a little talk. I'll be waiting in the other room." Throwing on his overshirt he strode from the room and shut the door behind him. Hermione buried her face in her hands and sobbed.  
  
*  
  
He waited for forty minutes, maybe more, probably closer to an hour. Not that it would have mattered; he would have waited until morning if he had to because this was not something that could be left alone. In his mind he was confused, angered, still a little horny, and a number of other emotions all jumbled together trying to force a mental block to shift a little to give him a better angle on it. What had happened? Well, he had decided to take what he had brought her here to take from her and things had gone wrong. Why had things gone wrong? He no longer wanted what he could take. Why did he no longer want it? His reasoning balked a moment. The question resurfaced, more insistent this time. I stopped. because I saw her crying and it wasn't worth it anymore. Even thinking the words made him cringe. He knew where this line of thought would take him, or had some idea, and it did not bode well. Still, he continued the questions. Why would something as insignificant as her crying make it not worth it? I suppose I feel some sort of connection to her. What sort of connection? The type that makes me want to respect her more than I usually would, or I obviously wouldn't have cared how much she cried otherwise. Groaning, he put his hands on his forehead and swept back some of his sweat-drenched bangs from his eyes. This was horrible. When had Hermione become a person to him? How long had he cared how she felt on any level? What was he supposed to do now? As things stood he still desired her, still felt she was a lesser being, but at the same time wanted to be sure that she was, well, he supposed protected was a good word. Not that it fit perfectly, but he wasn't sure how else to put it.  
  
When the door clicked behind him, he turned to face a bedraggled slightly cowed girl. She looked puffy from crying, sweaty from the heat, and red from a deep blush of displeasure. Immediately Draco felt himself to be the biggest idiot living. A dark wizard wasn't supposed to feel bad for his victims. That's why they were victims, because they weren't high enough in regard to be an enemy, ally, or lackey and those were the only categories Draco had in his life. Maybe superior was in there too, but a proper dark wizard knew who was supposed to fill that position. But these were stupid musings, as he had to talk about what had just happened and he wasn't sure how to start talking about it.  
  
"You could start with 'I'm sorry.'" Her tone was devoid of emotion but firm. No shaking, no rage, but no fear or sadness either. Even if she looked beaten, obviously she was not.  
  
"Listen."  
  
"No, I don't think I will. You see I have decided you're a shitty little bastard and I was a fool to think that maybe you'd be decent. I knew very well since the moment I got here that something like that would happen, if not worse than what happened. The only thing I don't understand is why you stopped." As she spoke tears were forming and dropping from her eyes, but she neither moved to wipe them nor showed any quiver in her voice as she cried.  
  
"Honestly I don't know either, but I have some ideas." Picking at a button to avoid her steady, almost unblinking, gaze he continued. "I'll admit from the beginning this had just been one bad situation after another. When I first saw you this summer I knew that you were what I wanted. I'm rather used to getting what I want and so I set about arranging things for myself." It was coming out as a rather chipper little speech, he thought, and she was probably going to slap him in the end. "When you got here I wanted to send you back, but I had gone to all that trouble and now I knew I could indeed get what I wanted, or take it, as the case may be. Then we started to talk a little bit, and spend some time together. Even in the silent time I suppose I felt that it was still worth it otherwise I would have given in earlier to my needs."  
  
"Get to the point."  
  
"Indeed, I was getting there." He looked up and narrowed his eyes at her, just as she was doing at him. "But you must know that ever day seeing you only drove me a bit more mad, and finally I just wanted to take what I had brought you here for. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't fucking do it, and now I feel. I don't know, worse than bad, and perhaps more than a little guilty." His hands tightened into fists. "I'm supposed to be strong, emotionless, efficient. This is not supposed to happen. I should kill you and use your blood to decorate the wine cellar. I should rejoice in every bruise I gave you. I should have been driven by your tears," His voice kept rising, and his eyes flashed madly. A little laugh burst from him.  
  
He gripped his face. "I should have raped you until your body was too weak and in pain to remain conscious. I'm a failure and I'll be killed by them. I was never strong enough for them. I can't even do something so simple as." He punched the stone wall twice, three times, and bloodstains remained after the fourth and fifth. "WEAK. WEAK. Lucius will kill you himself. WEAK!" The blood was splattering onto the carpet as his fists dripped. Drawing back for another punch he felt a hand grab his arm. He drew back to strike and then looked into the pitying eyes of the damned little Muggle witch he wanted to possess so much it made him mad.  
  
"Stop." It was so gentle. "You can fight them you know. You don't have to be that person that they have molded you to be."  
  
How dare she be understanding? How dare she be so calm and loving to someone who had just hurt her so badly? The very sereneness with which she regarded him made him that much more enraged. For a moment he considered grounding a bloody fist into her face, and then felt something burn in his eyes. His twisted face regarded her with contempt and he pushed her away roughly before storming out of the room.  
  
But they had both seen the tear that had run down his left cheek to his chin before dropping to join the blood on the carpet.  
  
Hermione regarded the stain with quiet composure for a moment before she too began crying again. The apology would come someday, she was sure of that. Now she had some things to think about before she saw Malfoy again. Somehow, she knew that the scars he would carry from this probably ran as deep than her own.  
  
*  
  
He didn't come the next day, but a servant (a large imposing looking one who kept his eyes on her the whole time) came with a lot of wonderful food for lunch and supper and took laundry from her to be washed. As it was, things had become somewhat surreal now and hazy from being remembered by a heat clouded and pain encased jumble of images. It didn't seem real at all, and it was that much easier to put aside the feelings of resentment and violation and puzzle over what had happened once Malfoy had begun to break down. He was obviously very conflicted. Something in him wanted to hurt her very much, but something else was creeping into him telling him not to. Maybe she could win him over a little bit so that he became a little more decent and, in time, good. I won't hold my breath for that one.  
  
It was flattering in a rather sick way that he was so attracted to her that he had gone to all this trouble to get her here. He looked a little bit more haggard every day and she wondered how powerful a spell he had to cast to keep her parents under an illusion of her presence. Surely he couldn't keep it up for much longer considering how he was losing control of himself a little more each day. She could see it now in retrospect. They say hindsight is 20/20, and she smiled to herself.  
  
Something else that was troubling her was how she had both abhorred and wanted what he had done to her. Having anything forced upon her was naturally wrong, and she certainly had not liked that but when she hadn't fought he had been gentle enough and it had felt very good. There was so much shame in the memory of how her body betrayed her even as her mind was repulsed. That was part of what had made her begin to cry. Rape was a crime of holding power over another, and now he couldn't do it anymore. Maybe. She hoped. The best thing to do would be sort out how she felt later on and deal with things now.  
  
The situation hadn't been her fault. She had been encouraging him to look at her in a sexual way but she had not invited him to rape her. So the whole situation was not her fault. She saw that much. She couldn't have fought any more, maybe, and she had done the best she could in the situation. All the feelings of shame would be pushed away in time. The slight lingering curiosity of how it would have felt if it hadn't been forced on her made her heart burn in an agony of self-loathing. She was a dreary slut of a girl to have those thoughts, she scolded. It was better to sink into her world of books and ignore everything until he came back.  
  
*  
  
The next day he did not come either, but more food did. It was the day after that, at some time in the mid morning, when a knock came at her bedroom door. Hermione was sitting in the middle of the bed with her books spread all around in for easy cross-referencing and she was bent over a particularly large book with a rapt expression that lingered as she looked up. Draco stood there, unsmiling, and merely told her to come with him. Following, curious and a little apprehensive, he led her into the other room and then out the perennially locked door. Her heart beat faster as she became more confused. She continued to follow him and at the same time looked at everything around her. There were more heavy dark curtains and statues, busts, paintings, and various other ornaments that had gathered over the years from generations of Malfoys. It was very impressive and cultural and just the sort of thing she would have enjoyed to take a closer look at, but the trip was a short one down some hallways and stairs to the outdoors. Then into a locked and walled off area they went, and Hermione was surrounded by green and sunshine and fresh air and shade.  
  
The garden was lovely, although she saw that every plant there was poisonous in some way and a couple in the back looked carnivorous for more than bugs. There was nothing to fear about the plants as long as you understood what they were, and she was a good enough student to have a good grasp of the majority of them. Draco sat down on a bench and watched her as she inspected the plants and delighted in the rare ones even as she found some joy in recognizing the more common ones and their uses. After a little while, (and a slightly closer encounter with a hungry plant than she would have liked) she came and sat down beside him.  
  
"I should have sent you home." His voice was flat and dead.  
  
"But you didn't."  
  
"No."  
  
The silence was light, since nothing could make Hermione feel bad surrounded by plants and sunshine.  
  
"I shouldn't have tried to."  
  
"But you stopped." She interrupted quickly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The silence was a little heavier this time as they retreated into their own thoughts.  
  
"I'm sorry." It was quick and quiet, but it was there and he meant it. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly as if the effort of saying it had pained him. A tear ran down his face, and she wouldn't have seen it if it hadn't sparkled so nicely in the sun. He probably still thinks himself weak, and maybe he is going a little mad after all. But he isn't inherently a bad person. I can't believe that. I just can't. There's hope for everyone. I can be the difference in his decision, maybe. She wanted to make his turmoil go away. She wanted to feel whole again, maybe even a little bit in control. After so much time of being used and kept she wanted things to simplify. So, in a counter intuitive sort of logical step she made things much more complicated.  
  
At first he felt cool hands on either side of his face, and his eyes flew open just as Hermione's closed and she kissed him. It was slow and fairly chaste, but Draco did nothing to make it more than what it was. It kept going until she needed to breathe, but she was not gasping or crying and she did not look seductive or sexual. She accepted the apology and took his hand a moment in hers as she pointed out an especially pretty plant that had just bloomed, (the fact that the juices could dissolve your skin didn't matter, it was still a beautiful plant). Eventually Draco led her back up to her room where they ate lunch. He promised to be back for dinner and chess. Hermione said she looked forward to it, and gladly found that it was not a lie when she thought about it.  
  
*  
  
Really, he was a much better chess player than she would have suspected. Even Ron had never run such circles are her, because even she could see he was guiding the game rather skillfully so that all she would have left was a pawn, her queen, and a knight. Terrible. Then, just to foul him up she tried to sacrifice her queen and ended up putting him in checkmate as he attempted to salvage his own little plan. Giving a genuine laugh he admitted defeat, and got up to stretch. Things were cooler today, and it was a very nice night. He pointed to some constellations and she told him the Greek stories they had come from. It was pleasant, and friendly. She gave him a hug, quickly, as he left much to his surprise and when he gasped a little she wondered. Then she saw some red where she had pressed his back when he turned to go.  
  
"Why are you bleeding, Malfoy?"  
  
"Never you mind." He snapped.  
  
"Well, you don't have to be mean about it."  
  
"Shut up! I don't owe you any explanations, just you remember." The door slammed loudly and Hermione sighed. If it was that easy to make him bleed, then the wounds must have been deep and slow in healing. Whatever he had done to himself, it was probably hurting him a great deal. She smirked a little, feeling he deserved the pain for what he did to her, and yet not wanting him to suffer too much since it wasn't a very charitable attitude to have. As things stood, he had been quite gentlemanly and friendly to her, and she had even gone outside. She'd be home soon enough and there was nothing to sorry about so long as he was going through this strange decision process. Until he made up his mind, she would take advantage of his nice behavior and try to give him something to regret going back to the dark side. If she was really good, she might be able to get herself home without putting herself in too much danger.  
  
*  
  
Again he came in the midmorning and they went down to the garden. He told her what some of the more esoteric plants were and censored what he told her about their uses. There was no emotion as he talked with her. Nothing to give away how he was feeling or what he was thinking. As if to make up for it, Hermione became more emotionally forward: friendly, attentive, and helpful. The information he knew was genuinely interesting, and she found herself occasionally slipping only when she stared at his lips or eyes too much and got distracted. It was stupid and embarrassing, but she really wanted him to make a move on her again. It was unreasonable, and even a little bit masochistic. She had only had bad experiences when he had started things, but that one kiss she had given him had been nice and there was no reason why other things couldn't be equally considerate and mutual.  
  
She would attempt to guide the conversation in more personal directions, and then he would become more general and distant. It was so difficult because she simply could not mention her parents, Ron, or Harry and they were most of her personal interaction. She tried to bring up politics, but he didn't really care or pay attention to what happened in the Muggle world. Even though he appeared to have a fairly extensive knowledge of history, he was not so interested in talking about it. A few stories about how the family residence was built and when, and even Hermione was feeling it a bit dull so that died as well. When they were back to commenting on plant life is when he suggested that they return to the room.  
  
"We can only play chess for so long, and I don't particularly want to do it any more." Really, part of the motivation there was that Hermione did not like losing so frequently and consistently to him.  
  
"What do you propose we do then?" It seemed as if he were entirely bored by the prospect of anything she could speak of before she even mentioned it.  
  
"Um." She sat in a chair with her eyes closed and her fingers steepled a moment. "We could talk."  
  
"We were talking before. It wasn't working, that's why we came inside."  
  
"I don't mean that. I mean actually talking, not merely speaking. There is a difference."  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her. This was not something that he had wanted to approach. There were several reasons for this, most of them being that he did not want to give her any more knowledge of his delicate state of mind, excessive weariness, or turmoil of emotional confusion surrounding her. The spell up keep was starting to take a tremendous amount of mental strain. It didn't help that he had implemented his own beating so that the blood had run down his back in thin streams making him that much weaker physically. He had needed to feel like he could stand up to anything, and he had not cried out once under the stroke of the whip. It had given him tremendous focus, but now it was starting to crumble a little bit in the presence of this girl. This girl who he still desired, but who he also wanted to know in a way other than carnal. He didn't like these feelings or his own powerlessness to just separate himself from her and alleviate the problem. It would have been better if he had just fucked her and ditched her back with her clueless parents. Damn.  
  
"Fine. Talk."  
  
It wasn't a promising beginning, she had to admit, but at least he was cooperating. Now what to bring up? Something neutral would be good.  
  
"What is life like in Slytherin? I mean, I only have my experiences from Gryffendor and I don't know what it would be like to have been sorted to any other house."  
  
He looked out the window, then sat down across from her at their usual chess table. "In Slytherin it is very important to be important. To know the right people and talk to the right people is where the power lies. Connections mean much more than grades. Reputation is worth more than actual personality. We know we will all be important and we know what we have to do to be so. Every person in Slytherin knows who they will become, the feeling of self direction is enormous." His eyes, which had glazed over a bit as if he were looking at mental images now refocused on Hermione's face. "What's it like in Gryffendor?"  
  
The smile on her face became wide and warm. "It's like I moved in with my whole family for boarding school. There is this sense that we are all going to serve some greater purpose but we don't know what yet. There is so much optimism and potential. I think it is the people who really make it worthwhile, I know that I will have the friends I made there my whole life and I can always count on them, just as they can always come to me. Even if we also have fights like family, there is so much love there that things settle eventually. I suppose I assumed everyone had a similar connection to their house at school." She let the smile fall as she recalled his words. Slytherin did not sound like it was loving or fun. It was a terrible way to live, in her mind, and she wished suddenly that it could have been different for Malfoy.  
  
He looked at her and absorbed this new information. This girl was an enigma. It was mere days ago that he had nearly committed a monstrous act on her, an act he still wanted to do on many levels. His tension was often high now. All the time he was glad they spent so much time sitting down, as his thoughts about her often made him become uncomfortable and embarrassed in a very physical sense. Damn her, he himself was damned long ago.  
  
As she looked at the impassive mask he always kept his face in, Hermione shoved down an instant in which all she wanted to do was kiss him, and ran her hands down his chest, and the press her hips into his and. why is he looking at me like that? Why is he so attractive? I've got to concentrate on feeling motherly. I will be pure and wonderful and he'll see the error of his ways, HA, no I'm sure he will. not holding my breath. I need to have faith in him. sympathy for the devil. and then soon I can go home. in pieces I'm sure. it will all be fine. and, NO, it will all be fine. Frankly, she was beginning to feel a little schizophrenic with her own doubts and hopes running rampant in the prolonged silence of the room. All today she had been feeling impulses strongly to act less than appropriately. Guilt and fear crowded up against memory and desire. Even if she hadn't been raped, she had been violated in a very real sense. So take back some of it. Get what you want and walk away. That's no answer. But I want to do something. And that's when she picked up a book.  
  
At that point Draco began to laugh. He had been watching her think for a couple minutes and the varied expressions ending in extreme consternation and the picking up of a book only to not notice she was pretending to read upside down was simply too much. The laugh was a chuckle and then became a glorious aerobic belly laugh, which Hermione began to join in when she noticed her mistake. The silence that followed was more companionable. Hermione got up to put the book back on the shelf when Draco caught her hand as she passed and kissed it. It was too much, he looking so happy and beautiful like that and he needed to do some sort of action to relieve his screaming hormones. So this is what a deer in headlights feels like, she thought, right before the car hits. Oh, damn it all to hell. And the car hit.  
  
The book dropped, her hand clenched his, and she pulled him up so that their lips could meet in a painful grinding kiss. Mouths opened, tongues encountered one another, and a day of awkward conversation hiding pent up need began to take its toll. Whatever the other thought about how they would stop in a moment and then regain control was blown away by the rising intensity of feeling. Blessing shirts with buttons, both Hermione's and Draco's were quickly shed. There was very little thought or emotion attached to their actions, it was all based in a need they seemed to possess for contact. Years of each having been separated from much physical interaction, even simple gestures of affection, all sprang out in bursts and their hands roamed around seeking to memorize a tactile sensation that neither knew they had wanted so badly. Draco felt Hermione's heart beat insistently beneath him and he closed his eyes and groaned with the pleasure of the simple intimacy of that information. It was less frantic now. Hands languidly moved over stomachs, mouths, arms, and gloried in the slick feeling of sweat and heat. From skinny little boy to tall lithe man, Hermione felt his slim muscles and a vague memory of being held down by him invaded her moment of wonder and discovery. A soft kiss on her neck dispelled the bad recollection in a haze of renewed lust. She ran her fingers up his back and felt him twitch and shiver as he continued to suck gently around her collarbone. The hard object pushing at her lower belly only made her that much more aware of him and his own demanding hormones and it was exciting to know that she was causing this reaction. She ran her hands down to his hips and slipped her hands in his pants to feel the bone and skin as she splayed her fingers and softly gripped. He gasped and stilled.  
  
"Hermione." his voice was hoarse and thick. "If it is going to stop it will have to stop here because I won't stop later." He was giving her an out. There was guilt still surrounding his attack of her no matter how he tried to convince himself that she didn't matter. She took her hands from his sides and put them on either side of his face. Forcing him to look her in the eyes directly she gave him a lazy and sexy hooded gaze.  
  
"Don't you dare stop Draco." Her fingers stroked his cheek and then brushed back some hair from his face. "I want this."  
  
He didn't even smile. The recognition that he had just received was enough to click back yet another of the blocks in his brain and he immediately picked Hermione up and almost dragged her into the bedroom. Removing her pants as he removed his, she then sat on the bed in her undergarments waiting for him. For a moment he stood at the window dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts and Hermione had to suppress the impulse to giggle. Without him touching her she was regaining a sense of reality and a part of her separate from the situation was horrified. Screaming in her brain the little voice listed reasons why it was wrong, sick, humiliating, and similar descriptions. The other side, the side that had just given Draco Malfoy permission to do things to her that she had not let anyone get close to doing up to this point, told the other voice to shut the hell up. Yet the lingering feeling of wrongness persisted and Draco kept standing in front of the window immobile and staring out at his family's land. She was starting to feel more apprehensive as he at last turned and walked over to the bed. Picking up a strand of hair, he ran it through his fingers and looked down at her with an unreadable expression.  
  
Something was so wrong about all this and yet he was still going to do it. Something was missing, he thought, and he scanned through the feelings he was most familiar with for what it could possibly be. Hate, anger, the cold sort of pleasure he got from being sadistic were all absent but he wasn't sure if that's what he was wanting anyway. It was like the positive feelings surrounding her and the negative feelings were balanced, annihilating one another leaving nothing but a vacuous sort of emptiness in which his bodily needs had stepped forward. It was a rare moment of clarity he had had while staring out of the window. There was no fear or self recriminations, there was no fatigue from the spell or frustration of his inefficiency at getting Hermione sooner, all that existed in him was this perfect moment in which he looked out at the summer afternoon and thought of how he had a willing and attractive woman waiting for him once he turned to face her. No madness. No weakness. In some ways he didn't feel himself. When he allowed the moment to dispel he found that she was looking somewhat unsure. Uncharacteristically, he wanted to comfort her somehow. After stroking her hair he made her stand and gathered her up in his arms. Skin on skin, pale and milky, they looked like a painting done in cream in the light from the window. She shivered after a moment as she felt his lips begin brushing her neck, and she leaned slightly to allow more access.  
  
Leisurely moving his mouth on her neck, his hands moved over her hips and up her back to slowly work in the bra clasps. After a moment of examination he unhooked it and Hermione shrugged it off. As if it had been a cue, they both began to lean towards the bed still moving at a steady pace. Draco moved his hand up to softly rub the side of her breast and squeeze ever so slightly, and as he did this she made elaborate designs on his back lightly with her nails. When he moved his mouth to her chest she gasped and dug in her nails instead of her soft etching and he gasped and stilled a bit, not much, but she noticed because of their close contact. She placed her hand on his back and then brought it up so she could look at it, and the bright red smear was unmistakable.  
  
"Why didn't you warn me? I could have been more considerate." Her frown was of utter dismay.  
  
"I didn't think it would be an issue. Forget it."  
  
"No, I really think we should take care of your back before we go any further."  
  
"I said forget it." This time his words were more snarl than anything else. He didn't need to be reminded of unpleasant feelings at a time like this.  
  
"But." Her following words were broken due to the fact that he roughly covered her mouth with one hand, as he rolled off her to the side. Positioned up on one elbow he took his hand off of her mouth and ran it down her body. The sudden lack of heat and the stimulation from his hand gave her goosebumps all over. He plunged his finger into where other parts were shortly going to follow, but first he wanted her a little bit accustomed to the feeling. Judging from the way she was moaning and moving it would be a most excellent experience for both of them. What was left of his logical processes warned him that it might not be as nice for her, but he shoved those thoughts far away as he pulled off his underwear and she did the same. The barrier was further in than he had suspected, but he barely registered it as he thrust in quickly and completely. Perhaps she had whimpered in pain but now she was simply biting her bottom lip so hard that her scar was opening up from his bite and bleeding out of the corner of her mouth. Something of his old need for cruelty and dominance made the fact that she was experiencing pain even more arousing, but a part of him was sorry that she wasn't enjoying it this time. After a while she was grimacing less and starting to move a bit more, but Draco was too close to really care much about her needs as he found his release and clutched her body so tightly in ecstasy that she had bruises on her ribcage the next day.  
  
Hermione was very still and beginning to feel quite the fool. Everything up to what had just happened had been nice, but the act itself had been less than satisfactory. She assumed it would be better with practice, but the fact remained that she had fairly vivid memories of how this had hurt and didn't feel particularly inclined to do it again any time soon. At least at the end it had hurt much less though all her muscles inside felt as if they had been stretched tight, like the top of a drum. But aside from her negative musings it was nice enough now, being held by Draco who was looked very fragile and exhausted. When she confirmed that indeed he had fallen asleep she got up, (or tried until she succeeded as he was holding on rather tenaciously) and took a bath. Washing off the blood and sweat she felt much cleaner physically even if mentally she was debating about what should happen now. Mainly sorting through confusing emotions she looked up as Draco entered the bathroom. Crossing her arms over her chest as well bringing her knees up to hide her form from him only made him arch an eyebrow at her modesty considering what had just occurred.  
  
"You must have been tired." Her words only faltered a bit as he splashed water on his face at the sink. She stared at the scary mosaics rather than at his nakedness. More splashing as he tried to wash off some sweat as well, she supposed. The pause was awkward.  
  
"I haven't been sleeping well as of late."  
  
"Oh"  
  
He left the bathroom and came back after a few minutes fully dressed again, hair still a little wet. Hermione again resumed her uncomfortable but modest posture. "I'll get us some food." Then he was gone. What a stressful day this was. The word mistake had popped up in her mind about a thousand times in the last ten minutes, but she couldn't exactly take it back. Um, Draco, do you think I could have my virginity back, yeah thanks. No, she shouldn't regret it. Regret would only waste time and thought. She was a bit irritated at not getting much out of the encounter, but soon she focused again on the odds of her now going home. He had said he had brought her here for this purpose and now that she had fulfilled it maybe he would send her back now. Noticing that her fingers and toes were all wrinkly, she decided to get out of the bath and get dressed again. Food would be here soon, and she was indeed hungry.  
  
*  
  
Draco cursed all the way to the kitchen. Rooting around in the large steel refrigerator, he took out some meat and cheese to go with the crackers he had found. He was no chef and he didn't care to put too much effort in scavenging the large pantry and many cupboards that took up so much space in the kitchen. Even though he felt more relaxed in body than he had been in ages, his mind felt all wound up. He should be supremely happy. He'd gotten the girl in bed and it had been well enough, but there was still the possessiveness that he was sure would be dispelled once he'd had her. The knowledge that he was her first had been oddly satisfying and now he felt more inclined to keep her than before because, damn it, she was his. Suffering a dizzy spell, he clutched at his head and munched on a cracker while leaning on a counter top until it passed. Stupid spell, he wished that he didn't have to use it. He wished that she had come here voluntarily.  
  
Putting his hands down, he examined what he had just thought a moment. There it was again, a feeling of disappointment in himself. Mostly the disappointment was based in that although he had gotten what he wanted, Hermione herself had not experienced much besides pain. Guilt. Ugh. Guilt implied conscience, and that was a horrible thing to have if you were Draco Malfoy. Morality was for people who couldn't stomach what needed to be done to realize your ambition. His father and mother had told him similar things often enough and they were happy with their money and power so it seemed only natural to follow them. Didn't it? Well, maybe this problem would be easy enough to fix, and maybe even fun too. He would give Hermione what he knew she must want after all that foreplay, and then the guilt would be gone and so would she. It was the best solution to use her tonight and get rid of her tomorrow. He even had her ask him for the first time, and maybe he should have a few pictures taken or something for blackmail material later. Maybe. There might be a better way yet to incriminate her. Keeping her around might be worth it, in the long run, and he could still keep the spell going for a week and a couple days. but things were getting complicated and maybe indeed she should go home. Never mind it all, for right now it was more important to go finish some business.  
  
*  
  
It must be midnight by now, Hermione thought to herself, I should have something clever planned by now. I could try to hit him over the head and find a more conventional way out of this place as opposed to the wall. She looked down at her scarred hands. Draco, in boxers and an undershirt, was sleeping next to her on the bed with a slight frown on his face. He slept on his side with one hand on her belly, palm up, and the other curled at his side. She hated him for daring to look adorable. Truly she was disgusted with herself yet again. On her back, she stared at the canopy, looking for answers she knew were not located there.  
  
When he had come back to the room and after they had eaten, he had all but ordered her to go back into the bedroom. She had protested saying that before was a fluke and things were not different than before they had sex. Then he grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her back and marched her into the room while she struggled against his painful hold and kicked back at his legs. Heartily regretting wearing a skirt as he easily pushed it up and her underwear down, he pushed her onto the bed and climbed on top to start kissing her again. Much to her chagrin that had calmed her due to massive short-circuiting of brain cells due to those damn hormones she was beginning to hate. Then his mouth had moved down, past her chest to her belly and then. well, she couldn't really claim about not having a pleasant experience this time. Afterwards the sex had been a lot better, even if she was still a bit sore, and he had fallen asleep with a smile on his face. He seemed exhausted all the time lately. She refused to feel sorry for him, but her feeble sense of affection overruled her strong will power on that issue. Damn. You shouldn't go having a soft spot for a demon... Her thoughts were quite right, for it was totally irrational, but she had not yet been able to stop it. It was worse than poison. It was worse than a lingering cold. At least she had a possibility of medical help for either of those.  
  
Almost two weeks since she had come here on this impromptu and forced vacation. For a moment she wondered where his parents had gone, and if they spent much time with Draco. What would it be like to be brought up thinking that you were better than almost anyone else you encountered? Brainwashing from an early age how weakness is evil, but what society calls evil is merely effectiveness. Living in a castle isolated from everyone else. What a bizarre and horrible way to grow up. It wasn't surprising that Draco turned out the way he did. Not forgivable, because he could have made better decisions later, but not surprising. How unreasonable it was now for her to want to counteract all that deeply engrained training in a mere few weeks. But she must be getting through a little bit; otherwise his current actions did not make sense. There was still a lot of suspicion, but she was willing to suspend her disbelief until he proved himself one way or the other. People can change. But could they change so much in so little time? Her eyes closed and sleep followed her troubled thoughts. 


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe now it will get more romantic. maybe. As it is there is nowhere else for it to go, and I hope it doesn't end up sappy. Not too sappy anyway, some sap could be cute. We'll see how much romance can be strangled from my stony little spiritual core. Maybe after this I'll write some Enishi/Kaoru stuff or even Shaoran/Sakura tripe, I don't know, we'll see how bored I get. Maybe something will inspire me, or I could run through the streets like a psychotic fangirl with too much time on her hands. I just want to finish this relatively fast as it has become pretty long considering my aims for it were pretty limited. Stupid lack of any sort of inspiration to make this better.  
  
Oh, and I just went through and made all the thoughts in brackets like , and it took disgustingly long. Stupid not knowing how to italicize.  
  
Disclaimer of lack of ownership here! I own nothing that has to do with these characters. I'd like to think the story came out of my own mind, but maybe it was placed there by aliens and I simply have not yet gotten the repressed memories back yet.  
  
  
  
Part 3: Curtain  
  
  
  
Five days left until he had to return her, or else he would suffer a physical collapse from the spell. It had been accelerated by their, well, very active nightlife, but he wouldn't trade a second of it. All his determination to wipe her memory clean and send her back had disintegrated the morning he woke up after that first night they slept together and he saw her with her hair all tangled round his arm and her face. When he had moved to get up she had murmured something in her sleep and smiled as she turned towards him. Damn witch, she'd be a good enchantress, just so long as she didn't try too hard at it. The only thing that made her annoying was her need to be so logically thorough at everything she did. It was inhuman how good she was at school and magic, but then Draco knew something about feeling inhuman. He looked around his room. It was very tidy due to the fact that he spent very little time there, and hadn't slept there in days. The reason he was there now was because he needed to look at something without her presence.  
  
The pictures were quite nice actually. Shots of them in the garden, looking at plants, smiling and lots of her laughing were all quite common balancing how he never did more than smile. Even the smiles were rare with him, but it was more than he had ever done before. There were some of them playing chess. She had never questioned why he wanted to change places with her and have her face the window. The steady concentrated look she had was humorous in its own way. When she was really thinking hard she would bite her bottom lip a little bit. His favorite picture was the one of her looking at something in the garden; it was an absent and gentle look, which was unlike her usual somewhat sharp approach to life. He looked at them hard, as the figures moved and lived in the strange limited way pictures lived, and tried not to think about the pictures he had yet to take. Up to this point he had not had any taken of them being intimate, but he needed evidence and time was dwindling. A part of him rebelled against it, but the calm center of his mind told him that it was necessary and backing out would only provide further proof of his uselessness. He was determined to do it, but as he said it in his mind he had the urge to be sick. Must have been breakfast.  
  
*  
  
Hermione sat and contemplated the last couple weeks in her mind. She had planned to try to change Draco, but she herself had been fiddled with in return. What was more troubling was that she had gone from hating him to caring a lot for him in so little time. Even if the physical side was gratifying, somehow she still felt a bit empty. It was almost like she felt like she was being used. Of course you feel used, why do you think he brought you here? He never said that he wanted to have you here for anything different. You have no reason to feel hurt and betrayed. What did you expect from him? Something in her still gave the same cynical sage advice. But I like him. I told myself that having sex was not going to change how I had felt up to that point. There was pity and the beginnings of respect, and none of this expectant angsty horridness. This was not a side of her she liked much. This was sappy. This was romantic, a sickening word if there ever was one, and yet she wanted it sometimes.  
  
She walked into the bathroom and splashed water on her face before leaning on the sink and looking at herself in the mirror. Around her she saw the mosaics, no longer scary to her, and tried to imagine what she would do once she was home again. Would she tell Harry and Ron? Somehow she couldn't see herself doing that, and yet she knew that she needed to tell someone. They invariably would not understand, and would get mad. She would get angry, maybe even start crying, as they swore to kill Malfoy and all the rest of his evil friends. Or else they would think she had sold out and mistrust her. In that line of thought she would probably lose her dear friends, and as there was no way Malfoy's little cadre of followers would accept her she could not appeal to him without severely endangering herself. That is, if he acknowledged her presence at all and didn't just pretend that nothing happened. What am I thinking? I'm already coming up with scenarios of confession and disaster! This is ridiculous. It will be much better when I am home and can separate myself from the whole situation. For a moment she paused, then she walked into the main room and sat down heavily in a chair, slouching and looking out of the window. Draco must have a plan about what is appropriate. But I can't ask him. He'll misunderstand, he'll think I'm getting attached to him or something. But am I? I should just stop worrying and deal with things as they come.  
  
As she ran her fingers over the scar on her left hand and thought, she heard the door open and close behind her. Fingers ran through her hair a couple times and then touched her neck. Shivering involuntarily, and slightly nervous as the whole scene seemed so detached and creepy in her mind, Hermione did not look up for a few moments as Draco's fingers ran over her skin. When she did look up she wished she hadn't because his mind was far away even if his body was not, and the vacant expression made everything surreal. Then his hand gripped her shoulder and he smiled sparely down at her creased brow. This little toy was a nice one, he had to admit, and it would a horrible day when he had to give her up. Why do I have to give her up again? Somehow the reasons were all going oblong and obscure in his mind. Why can't I just keep her here with me? There's no boredom with her here. No pain, at least not any more, and sometimes. sometimes she makes me wish I weren't me anymore. What a strange thing to think. What would I be if I were not me? A renegade thought sped through his mind before being calmly squelched by his rational side: Someone who could be with her in public.  
  
"Draco?" She must have repeated it already because her voice had a tone of worry.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You're ok right?"  
  
"Of course." The vague smile dropped and he looked like his regular partially scowling self. At least this was more familiar.  
  
"I've noticed that you seem really exhausted recently, but I know you sleep like you were dead every night. I remember what you said about putting that spell on my parents. You know you can't keep things up much longer what with your level of activity."  
  
He sat down heavily across from her but did not look up. "Just say it." The interruption was flat and harsh.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just say you want to go home. I know that that must be what you are getting at." It had been too much to hope for that she had wanted to be around him at all. She was the prisoner he the jailer and he was an idiot to let himself create a delusion of peace with her. How could she possibly see him as anything but a nasty Malfoy?  
  
"I wasn't actually, but now that you bring it up I'd like to know when."  
  
"Tomorrow." He could practically feel the darkness and ice in his soul. It was beautiful in its familiarity. Warmth was overrated. "I'll be back later. I still have some arrangements to make." The anger was starting to come, he wondered why and then began to stalk towards the door.  
  
"Are you sure you're ok?" She sensed the mercurial mood swing and tried to guess at the cause.  
  
"Just. Fine." His teeth gritted in a nasty attempt to smile. The door slammed with a click and a pop and Hermione could practically feel his aura as he moved down the hallway. As she looked back at the door, contemplating his exit, she noticed something glint. It was the mirror across the hall from her room. He had slammed the door so hard it had not latched quickly enough. Options swam before her eyes. Escape on her terms not his. Discovery of valuable information to take with her, maybe, to benefit the wizard community. It wasn't very smart to go looking, but this was such an opportunity and she would never have another like it. Pushing the door open, she ventured into the dark hallway and walked down the way opposite that of the exit to the garden.  
  
*  
  
Ok. Castles, even renovated ones, were apparently more maze-like that she had expected and now she was quite lost. Everything in the place was very old and expensive looking, but that made picking out landmarks to go by very difficult what with everything generally looking old and expensive and in dark colors. Several times she had had to duck behind curtains as servants went past, but they did not look as if hey would have stopped her even if she had spoken to them. There were twists that led up stairs and downstairs and some seemed to slope up and then down and who knew what else it did. Grim portraits of pale and slightly mad looking people lined the walls. True to most wizard works, their eyes really did follow her with disapproving scowls that rang familiar in her mind. Must be a family thing.  
  
Turning down a wing that seemed more used, judging from the carpet, she saw a door slightly ajar at the end, a book in the doorway. Inside was a room done in Slytherin colors but in a way that spoke of them having been that way long before Draco was born. There was no doubt in her mind that this was his room, as the books were texts from last year that were torn and thrown about. The shattered lamp had left a spray of glass that crunched beneath her shoes in a muted way. Somehow he had ripped the covers on the bed, as well as littered the room with feathers (she assumed they were from the gutted pillows lying across the room). Bits of paper were everywhere, as if a small confetti bomb had gone off above her. Picking up one of the larger pieces, she thought she recognized the side of her face. That couldn't be right. Some of these paper bits were really torn pictures. Sifting through she found chunks of the room she occupied, the garden, fragments of chess and flowers, but in each of them there was a recognizable fragment of her. There were a couple that she guessed were of her dressing in the morning that didn't please her too much, but there wasn't anything too explicit. Crouched down she noticed one that looked almost whole sitting on the bed, where most of the torn pieces had been. It was bent but only torn a little bit at the edge, and it was of her looking at nothing while she had been thinking deeply.  
  
Cleaning things as best she could, she cleared out a spot to sit and waited thoughtfully.  
  
*  
  
Bursting in the door of his room, he pulled open a drawer and got his wand out. The bitch, that snotty know it all ungrateful whore, would pay for daring to escape. He would take her down to the underground chamber and make her bleed from the whipping he was going to give her then he would rape her up and down the stairs with her raw bleeding back on the cold stone. It would be beautiful. There would be plenty of time for pictures. Enough to replace the ones he destroyed a thousand fold in quality. The light in his eyes was hellish, a laugh rang out inadvertently from his lungs and it was raspy. Turning, he started and almost fell back on his exhausted limbs because the object of his twisted hate was sitting o his ruined bed looking horrified.  
  
It was as if someone had poured water on him just as he stood up too quickly, because the room went black and then came back into focus with agonizing clarity. Confusion, horror, and a number of other emotions played across her features. Draco didn't know what to think. It looked as if she had been sleeping on his bed for some time since he could see the nest she had arranged and judging from how blearily she searched his face with her eyes.  
  
"You're still here." He didn't make it a question.  
  
"Yes." She didn't know what to add.  
  
"You didn't run away."  
  
"No."  
  
"I thought you did though."  
  
"Obviously. But you know I wouldn't leave you like that."  
  
He sat down on the floor with a jolt. Today had been too tiring for his brain and his body. He had gone through the full spectrum of emotions and now he just felt all wrung out. She hadn't left. She was sitting here for who knows how long waiting for him. The relief was overwhelming. When he had thought she didn't care the rage had been beyond his enormous self control. Everything regarding Hermione seemed to just slip past his years of barriers straight to something he had no way to stop. At this point he simply had to admit it to himself that he wanted her, but for more than just her body. When she was around he didn't feel as if he had to be anything more than what he was, even if what he was happened to be a filthy little dark wizard. She had put aside misgiving and treated him like a person she could feel free around despite the circumstances he had put her in. He admired her poise, her intelligence, her tendency to show off her knowledge of things, and damn it all he liked the way she smiled so warmly and laughed so freely. It was charming, it was lovely, and he did not want to let her go even if it destroyed him.  
  
"Draco, it's ok, I'm here." She was holding him and stroking his hair. It was so motherly. It was so loving. If he hadn't already been crying silently into his sleeves then that would have pushed him over the edge. But he quickly got a hold on himself and grabbed her to him almost crushing her arms to her chest with the tight intensity of his grip. "I'm here." She was gasping a little so he relaxed his hold a bit.  
  
"Do you care about me?" The question seemed very vital right now to him. The pause before her answer almost broke his tenuous hold on sanity.  
  
"More than I should, and as much as I can for anything in my world." There was something hopeful/hopeless in the way she said it.  
  
"I thought you didn't care and I got mad enough to kill, or at least maim, you. I felt as if I had entered hell finally and found out the devil were you. Something's wrong with me. I can't feel this way about you. Things like this don't work out in the end."  
  
"It's not the end yet. We still have some time."  
  
"We do, at that, and I am so glad I can hold this moment and this feeling before I send you back."  
  
"When will that be?"  
  
"We have four days."  
  
Hermione looked into his eyes and saw something sincere and intense. It was a painful moment for her to know the time limit in which she would be able to see that in him. "Then we will just have to make them count."  
  
*  
  
They looked at the window, the sheet at their waists being the only claim to modesty their bare forms could boast. The clouds obscured the stars, but still they looked as if they could see something. Willing the moment to be special was enough to make it that way and they were content with it.  
  
"I think I hated you and Potter and Weasley the most over the last few years because you all seemed to have love and respect. With good luck and popularity it seemed like too much for any number of people to possess that much fortune in life."  
  
"But you had popularity yourself, and respect, and only luck kept you out of major trouble." Hermione closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest.  
  
"Notice what you left out."  
  
"mmmm" It was a noncommittal answer.  
  
Tomorrow she would go home. All her clothes were carefully packed except for one outfit for when she left. Even though it was going to be wonderful to not have to continue the spell anymore and actually have good sleep and wake up not aching with fatigue, he knew that it was not worth losing Hermione. All the pictures of her that he had he destroyed. Most of them were already ripped up so it was no big loss. Well, not all the pictures were destroyed. the one that he had only ripped the edge of he had been able to magically fix easily enough. Putting it in a safe place on his person, (since he couldn't have anyone find it) he felt that maybe this would be enough to help sustain him. Someone had loved him once, even if only for a week. He would take what he could get; even his greedy nature knew he couldn't press this issue.  
  
Hermione's mind was occupied with questions of how she was going to keep this secret. She knew now that she simply could not tell Harry and Ron since they would never understand. But how can you love someone and not want to shout it out to the world? And of course the other problem.  
  
"So what happens at school?" She knew, but she needed to hear it.  
  
"Nothing. I will be me, and you will be you. I hate your people, you hate mine."  
  
"So we will be not even a memory?" It was unreasonable, and she knew it, but she was still saddened.  
  
"Don't think this trivializes anything. Never think that." He felt her stiffened body relax again. "I might even be worse to you just because I will be paranoid that I am acting different. But no matter how evil I get you know that I will never hurt you and I can't mean those things I'm going to say." He made her look him in the eyes. "And you need to promise me you'll give me those same venomous looks and agree with your friends about how hideously terrible I am."  
  
Her hesitation was palpable.  
  
"Promise me!" He needed this so that he didn't put them both in danger. He had a lot to think about, but until he was out of his father's house or at least set up somehow on his own he could not even think about changing. Significant parts of him weren't sure that change would even happen, but Hermione had suddenly given him a good reason to begin to think about it, even if minimally.  
  
"I promise you I will act as if I still hate your guts, but every time I say something terrible I will be thinking the exact opposite. Maybe you could too, then no one would know the difference anyway."  
  
"Beautiful, devious. a man could be in trouble with a witch like you around." He kissed her and from her response he knew that neither of them would be sleeping before she left.  
  
*  
  
Standing at the chimney of her house Hermione felt a strange sense of sadness. It was as if she'd miss that place. No, she corrected herself, it was not the place she would miss. In her hand she clutched a pretty orchid-looking flower that was the bloom of something quite rare and extremely deadly if eaten as well as possessing a number of valuable magical properties. Wrapped around the stem, so that she could safely handle it, was a black handkerchief with the initials D.M. embroidered in green at the hem. It was his parting gift to her, (he didn't know about the pieces of a picture of him in the garden that she had taken with the intention of repairing once she had her wand in hand again). She could still feel the brush of his skin as he hugged her one last time. There were no tears and no good-byes. It was just a hug and a nod from each of them and then she had gone home in a whisk of powder and heavy heartache.  
  
Standing there, she was soon accosted by her mother. "Mione! There you are! I have so many messages for you. Ron and Harry have sent any number of owls to you the past few weeks. I know you've been busy, but I do say that you can stop studying for a few moments just to write them back. Oh, and we're going to have hamburger for dinner, since I just got back from the store and I want to use this meat up." Her voice faded as she wandered back into the kitchen. No clue she had been gone. Something in Hermione almost wished that Draco had wiped her memory clean, as he had told her his original plan had included.  
  
Looking at the flower, she felt the loss with a touch of fondness and went to find a vase.  
  
*  
  
Epilogue.  
  
Hermione accidentally bumped into Draco while leaving Potions. She was really busy as all her books went flying into the corridor. Harry and Ron immediately started to help her pick them up. Draco hesitated a moment, but quickly he regained composure.  
  
"Muggle born filth! Watch where you're going." He pushed her a little to hard and she hit the wall, and only Hermione saw his eye flinch a little as she hit. Ron sprang up before Harry could and took a swing at Malfoy who calmly and easily dodged the wild fist aimed at his eye. Hermione forced herself not to smile.  
  
"I hate you Draco!" she called after his skulking form as he left a furious Ron behind him, and Harry holding all her books. "You are de-evolved slime! Wither and die!" Harry nodded at her words and led both her and Ron away to laugh about something Parvati had said earlier about how Neville had almost turned Mrs. Norris yellow on accident while practicing an extra credit spell on his own.  
  
Draco didn't look back as Crabbe and Goyle flanked him and they crowded their way to their next class. He absorbed her words and tried not to think about the bruise she would certainly have soon from hitting the wall. He thought of her words as he had left. "I hate you Hermione Granger. I hate you with every fiber of my being." He said it under his breath and he doubted that either Crabbe or Goyle had heard him even say it. If either of his mammoth followers noticed that he touched a spot on his robes to the right of his heart, neither thought anything of it. No one would notice the outline of a thick picture on his dark robes beneath his hand at any rate.  
  
If he had to wait years he would be with her again. Family, companions, and dark traditions be damned. If he had to turn heaven and earth he would manage it, and something in him knew she would be waiting. But what she had said before she had left still rang in his mind: "Just don't take too long, love."  
  
He smiled the rest of the day. 


End file.
